


My Body is a Cage

by Hysterical_Mirth



Series: Can't Save You If I Can't Save Me [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bisexuality, Casual Sex, Character Development, Child Death, Depression, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Homosexuality, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 70,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hysterical_Mirth/pseuds/Hysterical_Mirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You never think stories will happen to you. Not fantastical ones you read about in books or experience in games. But you always wonder and sigh wistfully, "what would it be like if I could?"</p><p>Reality is brutal, bloody, and frightening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was fire everywhere. It wasn't hot, but my skin screamed. The flames spewed and roared, and all I saw were the licking orange tongues. The urge to flail was strong, but I was pinned by a heavy weight. As I dragged at the floor with my hands the silhouette of a man entered my blurry vision.

I gasped, trying to move my head and shout. All I managed was a wheeze of air. It didn't matter; the man lurched closer, kneeling before me. I saw no visible features, just a shadow in the shape of a face as I was picked up like a rag doll. My head lolled over his arm, my limbs uselessly swinging from the momentum of his movements.

A distant roar, like a snarling animal, caught the man's attention. I was quickly shifted, thrown over a hard shoulder. Metal hitting metal rang in my ears. The fires surrounding us began to die and my consciousness faded with it.

* * *

I knew I was still alive when I first realized I was dreaming. I had never had fever dreams before, but these couldn't be anything but. An old woman worked her hands over the air above my body, a glow tracing her movements. A young girl by her side was copying her, a similar glow following after her hands.

Demons visited me, shaped like my friends as they stood in a wasteland. They smiled sweetly, their eyes tinged in violet. A small body wrapped itself about my waist. I looked down and the face of my sister looked up. She grinned, wide and bright, the sclera of her eyes black and her irises shot with purple light. 

I screamed and ran ran  _ran._

I ran all over the barren landscape, tripping over cracks of green, and they laughed behind me. Where ever I ran laughter always followed me, echoing louder and louder.

In my dreams I never tired, so I never stopped. Between the demons I saw the old woman, sometimes with the young girl, pouring the contents of a cup into my mouth.

My throat was too lax to choke on it and I was too hazy to catch the taste of the liquid.

When I truly woke I was alone. My eyes were fuzzy and my sight glazed. I blinked to clear the glaze and see my surroundings properly.

The material drooping over me looked like a tent, but the tarp beneath me felt leathery and so did the material being held up by... By wooden poles?

My body was heavy and slow from sleep, but my mind was racing. Where was I? I couldn't even remember what I had been doing before the flames and the man. He saved me?  

I trembled as I tried to sit up, my arms uncooperative. All my energy was drained, as if by sickness. I certainly felt feverish. 

I tried to stand and realized I wasn't wearing the shirt and jeans that I last thought I had worn. Instead I wore a thin shift. I curled my lip in distaste. Whatever, I wasn't in the position to be complaining. 

I stumbled, and a short shriek escaped as I almost met the ground with my face. I caught myself on my hands, knees smarting in displeased agreement with my hands.

I cursed under my breath and tried to pull myself up again. I was slowly getting some strength back. What little strength that was didn't help when the flap opened.

It hadn't been a fast swoop or anything, but I was not prepared to see another person yet. I screeched, falling back, heart leaping out of my throat.

The old woman, the one I vaguely remembered tending to me with glowing hands, smiled crookedly. "I didn't realize I was so frightening," she murmured, stepping further into the tent.

She let the flap drop and shifted towards me, holding out her hand. I took it hesitantly, my hold flimsy compared to hers. It was mostly her work that had me back on my feet, legs wobbling like some newborn fawn.

"You are doing much better, to be walking so soon," she told me, tucking my arm in hers as she lead me outside.

"Was I sick? Who are you?" I asked, my voice cottony. I swallowed thickly, embarrassed.

We stepped outside, and trees were everywhere. Huge monsters of trees, ones I had only ever seen in pictures. They blotted out the sky above us, and what light reached the forest floor was dim. The cool air soothed the heat of my skin, if only by a bare minimum. "Where am I?" I squeaked. There was no where even remotely like this close to home. Or even the same state.

"I am Keeper Marethari, you are in the Brecilian Forest, and you are sick with the taint," Marethari answered gently while I gawked.

"Taint, what taint?" I had never heard of such a sickness. I pulled my eyes from the trees and gave the old woman my full attention.

"The taint of the darkspawn. A Grey Warden found you in the ruins two of my hunters had discovered. He should return shortly; he left two days ago to destroy the cause of the taint."

That still didn't sound like any sickness-... What? My mind blanked as I registered "darkspawn." I rewound my memories and stopped at "Keeper Marethari" and "Grey Warden."

What? The fuck? Was this some elaborate joke? Was I still dreaming? 

No. No _no **no**_ that's not- No.

Haha, funny, really funny- No.

This isn't... It can't be.

I stared at the people around me. They were all somber, and... Their ears. They were pointed. Now that I was looking, everyone around me had ears that pointed out from under their hair, tips clearly tapered. I tried hard not to stare anymore, forcing my eyes to the trees again. Trees were neutral.

"Wh-When is the Grey Warden getting back?" I asked, carefully avoiding the name I knew. And I knew all their names. How could I not, I was only in Dragon fucking Age, Ferelden. How did I even get here? This was the worst time to ever come to Thedas! Was there ever a good time to come to Thedas?

When I turned to the keeper, Marethari had her brows raised at me. Had I been too quiet? Made strange faces? "Calm your breath, shemlen," she murmured, placing a hand on my arm. Ah, so that was it. I could feel the rawness of my throat as I realized just how fast I had been breathing. The chill of the air was no longer comforting, instead becoming needles in my trachea.  

Marethari helped me to a little bench and I sat down, going through breathing exercises I hadn't used since high school band. Calm, four beats in, hold, four beats out.

Once I didn't appear to be breaking down any more, the older woman spoke again. "He should get back later today. Can you eat?" She asked, pulling a cloak over my shaking shoulders. I clutched it, tugging it tight around me. Was I going into shock? I had better not be, I already had the fucking taint. Somewhere in my head I was laughing at how bad my luck was.

"I don't think so," I answered. My voice was pathetically weak. What was I, an adult or a lost child? I felt like a lost child right now.

The elf woman tsked. "You need your strength. I will get soup. It is light enough to keep from turning your stomach," she said, bustling off. She was just trying to keep busy, I knew what she was doing. I could remember the timeline of the elven origin easily. The Dalish origin had been my favorite.

They had just lost Tamlen, and they all knew it. The only thing they were waiting for was Mahariel's return to herald the destruction of the mirror that had given us the taint.

Then Mahariel was going to be taken from them too. I wondered why I wasn't getting more rude or angry stares, as a human. In such a time, it would be so easy to lay the blame on me. I had come from the cursed mirror that had stolen and weakened two of their hunters.

I watched them, everyone packing something, getting ready to move. Every now and then, someone did glance at me, eyes sharp with grief and rage. I wasn't as exempt from blame as I thought, only sheltered from it. Marethari's doing, no doubt. 

It was likely she had them busy getting ready to move on. Who wanted to be near a coming Blight or human villagers preparing to go after them? It was a comfort to know they would be safe over the next year once they left Fereldan. 

I sighed and rubbed my head, trying to make sense of this all. How did I get here anyway? I couldn't be dreaming, everything was too real, but why could I not recall anything past the flames? And what the hell were the flames from? I couldn't recall flames from the elf warden's origin. Hadn't he been found in the forest once he fled the ruins? I knew I had been surrounded by them, but, looking over my hands, I wasn't burned or scarred.

Magic flames? Damn it, magic was real here too. Which was worse, the taint or magic? One had most likely brought me here and the other was killing me. If Duncan thinks I'm capable (which I highly doubt), I was either going to choke on the ritual blood and die, or I was going to become a Grey Warden. I don't know how to fight! Any way I went was going to lead to certain death. Not even Mahariel's life was assured in the end.

If his, or her, life was uncertain, then how could mine be anything but as well? What if my presence was detrimental? It couldn't possibly be helpful. All I knew was lore, because anything about the future couldn't be counted as reliable anymore. I was more than just a ripple in the pond... Unless I died, and it would be so easy for me to die. 

If this was a dream, would I wake when I died? 

It was only the off chance that this was real that kept me from looking for a dagger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lasted edited: Sept. 24, 2015


	2. Chapter 2

A bowl of warm soup was just what the doctor ordered. The methodical movement of bringing spoon to mouth was calming and the flavor of the soup was decent, even if I wasn't much of a soup person.

I reviewed my memories of the game, specifically the Dalish origins track. Mahariel had left with Merril and maybe that other elf, Fenarel. When Duncan returned it would be with Mahariel and he would presumably be taking the both of us to Ostagar after Mahariel parted with his clan. Or her, I don't know yet.

Or maybe he'll just kill me. It was the only way to keep me from becoming a darkspawn and a danger to others around me. I don't really have any advertisable skills in combat, what the hell would I do on the battlefield when darkspawn showed up? Run screaming? It's not like my knowledge would do anything for them. A Blight had to be stopped and it was going to be stopped, one way or another. Knowing how it got from here to there wasn't really going to change the major must-have events that would happen. I was so extraneous it wasn't funny.

Thinking positive in this situation was beyond me. How could I make myself valuable to a man who was, knowingly or not, going to be dead soon? He didn't have time to teach me shit, not some dumpy short woman from suspicious, tainted ruins.

At this point, I was resigned to accepting my death on Duncan's sword with grace.

My wooden spoon clattered against my bowl as I stood, belly full and now faintly nauseous. "Keeper? Where...?" I gestured with the bowl helplessly and she took it from me.

"I will take it. Do not get up," she told me shortly, turning away. Did I look so frail?

Truthfully, I couldn't lift any more than that bowl. If my outer appearance matched anything of what I felt like within, it was a wonder she didn't send me back to the tent.

What a mess.

I sat staring at the fire, unaware of time passing until a familiar voice threaded through my wool-gathering. Deep and firm, a hint of gravel to betray his weariness. There was no mistaking the voice of the man who narrated the first game of Dragon Age. 

How surreal is it to hear him speak, know he's going to die, and be unable to stop it? I was in no position to be jumping in front of an ogre at least double my height. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I was too numb to work myself up enough to let them fall. So I turned around instead.

Duncan was... Real. He was a real man, I don't know how else to say it. He looked haggard, his hair was more grey than it was in the game. His skin was definitely a leathery kind of tan, not just because he was naturally olive toned. He wasn't a character model with texture mapping and lighting, and this was fucking real.

The reality was hitting me now like it hadn't before. My heart hammered in my chest. Everything was too real. These weren't game graphics. The rock making my butt fall asleep was real, and the dirt under my feet was actual dirt. What I ate earlier was real soup, made by a real person, and made of real ingredients.

Those tears I was unable to let go before were edging the corners of my eyes again. I quickly turned back around, rubbing furiously at my face, bending until my forehead touched my knees. I couldn't even find it in me to notice what Mahariel had looked like. Fuck.

I didn't hear them talking about what was going to happen, I was too busy listening to the blood rushing in my ears and having a mental fucking breakdown. Excuse me.

I couldn't just let Duncan kill me now. I couldn't, this was my life. I had to get out of here, I had to... I had to do something! I had to prove I was worthy of becoming a Grey Warden, somehow.

Voices pulled me from my internal meltdown, and I lifted my head to see the storyteller, Paivel, gathering the children. This was the part where Mahariel told the history of their people with Paivel after asking for Tamlen's funeral rites.

What was I doing? This clan just lost someone and I'm just... Useless. How could someone like me prove my worth? 

I stayed quiet as I looked at the elf next to Paivel. He... This was Mahariel. Someone I would possibly be getting close to as he stopped the Blight. It was going to be him stopping the Blight, after all, not me. It wasn't my place.

My God, he was the Hero of Ferelden. I stared a little harder, only half listening to what they said.

Mahariel was taller than I expected. Hell, most of these elves were taller than I expected, but that could be because I was simply short. Duncan was taller than all of them. I didn't know if this was because Duncan was truly tall or of average height for a Thedas man. 

He was pale, like most of the other elves here. Their skin was always shaded by the forest, it was little wonder. His bow was still on his back beside a quiver of arrows, daggers at his hips. I forgot that all of the origin story characters are trained combatants. Even the mage ones, locked away in their towers, knew how to use their talents. And Mahariel's muscles were clearly stating he knew how to use his weapons.

His hair was brown like mine, or like mine would be if it wasn't bleached. No, a stray bit of light caught his hair and I changed my assessment. His hair was auburn, shot through with strands of earthy red. Mine was a true, dull brown. 

"We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit."

The last part of the story was spoken quietly, by someone who didn't look entirely aware of what they were saying. Mahariel's voice wasn't like I had thought, though I wasn't sure what I was thinking it would be. I had to remember he had just lost his best friend and he was as sick with the taint as I was, though it was hard to believe. I would probably never see what a normal Mahariel was like. One thing was certain, and that was he had a lot more will than I did to be going out and fighting darkspawn when I knew exactly how crappy he had to be feeling right now.

I didn't get up or follow him when he left, I didn't have the right to talk to him. The only thing we shared was the taint. But I watched him go, heading towards the Keeper and Duncan where they were conversing. Or had been until they noticed Mahariel walking toward them.

They were going to tell about him joining the Wardens. Would Duncan talk to me about that as well or would he simply tell me I was to die? 

From the Mahariel-Duncan-Keeper corner there were no outbursts, no exclamations or protests. Mahariel simply bowed his head respectfully. Or maybe in resignation. He looked defeated. He looked like shit. Duncan crossed his arms in a salute and left the Keeper with Mahariel. Then he turned his eyes my direction and headed straight for me.

I froze. Like a deer in the fucking headlights. Inside, my mind was begging me to get up and run while I had the chance. The flames in front of me seemed to flicker faster with each step closer Duncan came.

"Peace, I have only come to speak with you," Duncan said, low and soothing as he lowered himself to sit across from me.

Really? I can't help it, I laughed. It wasn't a funny ha-ha laugh, it was a high pitched, nervous giggle indicative of my mental state.

As soon as it escaped me I clamped my mouth shut and whimpered. I was usually more in control of myself, but my nerves were shot and this man was the one who would decide my fate.

Judging by the rise of his brow, it looked like that fate was growing dim.

"S-Sorry," I stammered, "I'm- I don't really... Fuck, I don't really know what's going on, okay? Please don't kill me. I don't want to be killed."

Duncan cut me off before I could ramble further. "I will not kill you. I have come to offer you a choice," he said, quite calm. If that calm veneer was to help keep me placid, it wasn't working very well. "People like you are valuable to the Wardens. The Keeper told me she has informed you of the knowledge I left with her for your sake. You know you have the taint."

I nodded and he continued.

"The Grey Wardens have a cure for this taint, but accepting this cure means to join the Wardens. As a mage, you will be a welcome member of the Wardens. We accept all into our ranks, and you will not need to fear the templars."

... Mage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Sept. 24, 2015


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm not a mage."

How the fuck could I be a mage? If I were a mage, wouldn't it follow that I should have had some sort of special ability on Earth? ESP or some sort of sensitivity to the supernatural? Not that I knew how it worked. But in my little world, where DA:O was just a game, I was about as vanilla as they came. No big dreams, nothing outstanding about me, just a little, pasty white woman. I guess I was a mediocre artist and had a little talent in writing, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about me.

Duncan tried to make himself look more welcoming as he spoke with a softer voice. "I have no qualms with your abilities or whether you are an apostate or not. You do not have to lie to me, you will be welcome among the Wardens."

I shook my head in protest. "No, no, you don't understand. I'm seriously not, okay? I've never done anything magical. Like, ever. I can't possibly be a mage."

Now he was starting to get it. Duncan furrowed his brows, crossed his arms, and looked overall like a thoughtful adult. You know, I was an adult, why I can never pull off that look?

"Do you remember being in the ruins? The mirror?" He asked, eyeing me.

"Well... Not really? Just a little bit, I guess, but... No." I answered as honest as I could.

He kept furrowing his brows at me, pondering. "Tell me what you do remember."

I sighed and searched for what I remembered. "Well... There was a lot of fire around, but it didn't feel like fire was burning me. I wasn't hot, you know? I couldn't really see anything. I think I saw you, but I couldn't tell, Marethari told me you brought me to her. I'm just guessing.

"I tried to call for you or something, but I couldn't. That's okay," I shrugged. "You found me anyway. I remember you picked me up and after that... Pssh, nothing." I exaggerated the "pssh" with a wave of my hand and shrugged again. "Sorry."

Duncan nodded, stroking his beard in a habitual motion. "It's all right... But that makes little towards your argument that you are not a mage. I did find you, shortly before darkspawn arrived. It appeared you had come from the mirror for it rippled with strange magic. It is a miracle that you were alive; it was saturated in the taint. The flames you mentioned, they came from you after the darkspawn arrived. You set fire to everything, and you became covered in them but did not burn. Such a feat would not be possible for someone who was not a mage. I was lucky to be able to reach you, but I suspect your fire was weak because you were weak. You were, are, tainted, after all."

Fire, from me? Covering me? That... Well, that actually sounded really cool, if it had been anyone else. Being a mage was horrible in Ferelden; it was probably worse than being a normal, helpless woman. And I wasn't trained at all. Regular mages trained all their lives to control the powers they were born with. What could I do if we were attacked? Hope I could spew flames at people at the snap of my fingers? More like I would literally be causing friendly fire from my lack of control.

But I was forgetting the most important part of this. Duncan had not. "In any case, from where do you hail? If you did not have magic until now you could not be from the Circle. I believe the mirror to be Tevinter in origin, but you have no Imperial accent. And, forgive me for my questions, but what is your name?"

I want to say my brain shut down. And it did, briefly, before my mouth just started spewing lies I could only hope Duncan believed. I was ever telling anyone the truth. "I- My name is Elizabeth. I don't really... Remember much? My whole head feel blank. I remember bit here and there, but... I'm just... Shit, I don't know anything. Why don't I know anything?"

That last bit of hysteria wasn't so much a lie, but Duncan was quick to lay a hand on my arm. When had I pressed my palms to my face? With gentle pressure he eased them away and back into my lap.

"Please, calm yourself. I apologize; the mirror has clearly done more damage than I thought. It is suspected that such mirrors can be used for transportation or communication, but one so corrupted would not be without damage to the traveler. Moreso than the taint, that is." The Warden sighed wearily. I would be weary too, dealing with an unhinged stranger from a mirror full of taint.

Behind him the elves had gathered and began softly singing. Their voices were somber, some quavering. My heart just squished into a tiny ball. I wanted so badly to tell them what had happened to him, but it wouldn't change the fact that he couldn't come back. Their voices were so haunted. Why was this song ever named "Leliana's Song?" It's a Dalish dirge.

I wrenched myself from the proceedings as Duncan spoke again, quiet under the dirge. "Though you do not know yourself, you are still a mage. That doesn't change. We have other mages in the Wardens who can teach you to control your powers if you wish to undergo the rite. Perhaps your memories will come back with time."

What other choice did I have? None, that's what.

I nodded helplessly, crossing my arms and stuffing my hands under my pits. It was getting cold, even by the fire. "I'll do it. I don't have anywhere else to go." Not that any of the Warden mages would get a chance to teach me jack shit before they all died. "When do we leave? I'm not... Well, you know I'm not feeling good. How long until we get, I don't know, where ever the other Wardens are?" I almost slipped and said Ostagar and wouldn't that have been peachy?

"You and Mahariel don't have long. We'll leave as soon as we can. I will purchase supplies for you from the Dalish. You need more than a night gown." He said, looking pointedly at my dress.

Right. No traveling in your nighties. Not that I usually wore anything when I slept. I smiled awkwardly at Duncan. "Thanks. I'm sorry I'm just..." I waved a hand, gesturing to all of me, "useless."

Duncan returned my smile tightly and patted my shoulder. "Do not worry. If all goes well, you won't be without purpose for long."

Well, I suppose I can't be surprised that Duncan agreed with my uselessness. He's a practical man. If I wasn't tainted I have no doubt he'd be leaving my ass to the tender mercies of the Dalish. As nice as Marethari was, she was a single outstanding member of a larger clan who did not share her gentle ways.

"Duncan says you will be coming with us."

The deep voice sounded from behind me and I squawked, leaping up. I forgot how weak I was and ended up almost stumbling into the fire.

Maybe anyone else would have been amused, but he wasn't. His eyes were kind of dead, really. Mahariel.

"Um... Um, yeah, I am. I'm tainted too."

"You came from the mirror."

I wasn't going to bring that up, but since he did it for me... "Yeah," I swallowed, tugging on my dress with tight fists, "I'm not really sure how. I don't remember much."

I hadn't realized there was anything to fall from Mahariel's face until it did. Then it hit me. He was hoping I would know something, anything, that might suggest Tamlen's whereabouts. I grimaced and stepped forward.

"I-I'm really sorry. I wish I could tell you something, anything. But-"

"I understand. You can't tell me what you don't know." He cut me off, shoulders tense. His whole body was tense, actually, holding in his emotions. The fury of Tamlen's disappearance, frustration of not knowing his fate and unable to reconcile his death without a body to bury. My chest was heavy with sympathy and want to tell him. The uncertainty of his friend's fate was just... I had to soothe myself with the knowledge that he would find out. It wouldn't be pleasant, nothing like that could ever be pleasant, but it would bring closure.

I shifted on my feet, debating on whether to speak more. "My name is Elizabeth," I finally blurted, clamming up the next instant.

Mahariel's dead eyes looked at me again. Now that he was closer I could see the hazel-grey hue of his irises. I imagined they must be stunning when they lit with emotion instead of dulled with grief.

"... I'm Theron. Mahariel."

It was something. I smiled as widely as I could, glad for one little victory in this miserable place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Sept. 24, 2015


	4. Chapter 4

When Duncan returned with trousers and an apology, I waved him off with a word of thanks, because bless these trousers. 

I was so glad for these things. They were a bit tight, but I could squeeze into them and I would likely be losing weight. No junk food here and plenty of walking to do. I doubt there would be many times to just sit or drive a car around for transport.

And when we did start walking, holy crap. Maybe it was because I was sick and carrying things, but walking was a trial. I had never walked so much in my life. My whole body hurt when we stopped. I had to pee and I realized I didn't know how to go about doing that surrounded by wilderness and little else.

Duncan taught me with little fuss, despite how awkward the situation was. Now I knew what plants to use to wipe my ass and I was never asking again. How often is it that a grown woman has to ask another grown person how to wipe her ass?

Food was tasteless dried meat and unrecognizable vegetation. I assumed since it was just the three of us, two of which were sick, it would be hard to hunt. Duncan probably stocked up on food when he got my clothes.

My sickness made my stomach shrivel and deny food, but I was always made to eat under Duncan's watchful eye. No matter how long it took, I was to eat every bit of food he gave me. Mahariel tried to eat as little as he could get away with, but, after my first protest and Duncan's insistence, he never rejected the amount of food Duncan gave him.

One night Duncan made a small fire, beckoning me over.

"I do not claim to know much of magic, but I am willing to try and help you before we get to Ostagar. There might not be much time for teaching while we are there and it is best you know some control," he explained, stoking the fire.

"Okay..." I wasn't too sure about this. Duncan was a skilled warrior, but how much did he really know about magic? He wasn't templar trained, and he was no mage, was it really safe for him to be trying this with me?

"I'm told that all mages begin learning control through meditation. Given that you appear connected to fire, it would be best if you meditated as you focus on the flames. Many who meditate, not only mages, use an object as a focus for their energy."

"I don't know how to meditate."

Mahariel was wisely backing up to a safe distance under the guise of keeping watch.

"Empty your mind of all thoughts but the fire. Let the fire consume your mind and wash away all else," Duncan coached, voice low.

It was kind of soothing, and he kept encouraging me to think only of the fire. It couldn't hurt to try, I suppose.

I took a deep breath and trained my eyes on the center of the small fire. I watched the flames wave and dance when a breeze blew by. It was colorful, the warmth was like a small bubble around us. The very center of the fire was the brightest, blocked only by the dark bits of burning wood. I wanted to touch it, but restricted myself to just looking. Like mom always said, "No touching, just looking."

I stared and stared, but there was always something new to notice. Bright flickering of the flames, the pop of the wood as it became charcoal under hungry fire, the curling smoke as it rose and dissipated into the air.

"Elizabeth!" Mahariel shouted in my ear, and a hand shoved me, cutting my vision from the fire.

My mind cleared and I saw Duncan, standing up and away. Mahariel was behind me, dragging me.

"Let go!" I grunted, shoving back. The elf pulled his hand away, eyes not on me, but behind me.

I turned and saw the barely lit remains of our campfire in the center of an enormous circle of scorched earth. I had seen enough of this back home to know that these were marks from a fire... But the fire Duncan had made was small. A fire of this magnitude would had to have been a bonfire at least three shoulders wide.

My eyes darted to Duncan.

"Did I...?" I asked, pointing to myself then the black circle.

"Neither of us are mages," Mahariel said irritably behind me. It was the first time I had heard a clear emotion in his voice.

No wonder. From where he had been sitting, I damn near burned them both.

So it was true. Just what I needed.

My throat closed up. I took a shuddering gasp of air and stepped aside. My butt met the ground as Duncan started toward me.

"I don't want to do that again," I whispered as he knelt next to me.

"We won't."

The rest of trip to Ostagar Duncan didn't make another fire.

* * *

When I started seeing ruins I knew Ostagar was close. My chest pounded with anxiety. Exhaustion didn't help. Since the fire incident my mind only had too much fun thinking of everything that could go wrong. Usually as I laid on my bedroll with nothing to do _but_ think.

"Ho there, Duncan!"

The hero-king himself. He looked like a typical, handsome blond jock. His smile was bright and charismatic. Though I disliked his naivety... I couldn't really dislike him. Not yet, anyway.

"King Cailan. I did not-"

"Expect a royal welcome?" Cailan laughed. "I was beginning to think you'd miss all the fun."

Fun? I bristled. He couldn't know what was coming, but I couldn't reconcile a leader knowing what his soldiers would face and still claim it was in fun.

I ignored them, sidling closer to Mahariel. He looked just as apprehensive about this golden king as I did.

"So, I take it these are the promising recruits? I had thought there would only be one." Cailan mused, turning his eyes on us. I resisted the urge to hide behind Mahariel.

"Yes. Allow me to introduce you." Duncan said, straightening his spine.

"No need to be so formal, Duncan," Cailan waved, still smiling ever so brightly. "We'll be shedding blood together after all. Ho there, friends! Might I know your names?"

Mahariel held his head high and spoke respectfully, "I am Theron Mahariel of the Sabrae clan, your majesty."

I kept my face neutral as I stared blandly at golden boy's chin. "Elizabeth," I answered shortly.

"Elizabeth," Duncan rumbled, a scolding note to his voice.

I made a growling noise in my throat. "... Your majesty."

Duncan didn't look any more pleased by that, but Cailan merely laughed again.

"Well, pleased to meet you. New Grey Wardens are always welcome and I, for one, am glad to help them," he said pleasantly. I refused to feel embarrassed by my lack of maturity and his response to it, as if dealing with an unhappy child.

"You are Dalish, are you not?" The king placed his attention on Mahariel, the politer of us new recruits. "I hear your people possess remarkable skill and honor."

Mahariel's gaze shuttered. With a monotone voice, he very carefully replied, "thank you, your majesty. You are too kind."

"I commend you for speaking so politely to a race that has treated yours so terribly. I tell you this: You are welcome here."

Mahariel was getting tenser as the king spoke. I coughed loudly before Cailan could speak anymore.

"We should get going. We have things that need doing and it's been a long trip. Your majesty."

Duncan's lips tightened and Cailan's smile looked a little strained.

"Yes, you're right. I must return to my tent. Loghain seeks to bore me with his battle strategies," Cailan said, starting to turn.

"Your uncle sends his greetings from Redcliffe and would like you to know his forces could be here within a week," Duncan said quickly, stepping forward to follow Cailan.

"Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory," Cailan dismissed, "We've won three battles with these monsters and tomorrow should be no different."

"You sound so confident of that." I jibbed, sneering at the king. I think Duncan wanted to smack me.

"Overconfident some might say. Right, Duncan?" Cailan chuckled. "We've faced plenty of darkspawn on the field... But we've yet to see an Archdemon. I doubt this is a true Blight."

"Disappointed, your majesty?" Finally, Duncan's ire pointed elsewhere.

"I just hoped for a battle like in the tales!" Cailan dodged, "Oh, but I really must go before Loghain sends out a search party. I hope to see you later."

Idiot. It's not a wonder that Anora was the one leading the country while Cailan played soldier against darkspawn.

"Farewell," Duncan bade, Mahariel saluting as the golden tin can walked away with his guards.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Duncan turned a narrow gaze at me. I flinched back and put my head down.

"What the king said is true," he finally spoke. "They've won several battles against the darkspawn here."

"Yet you don't sound reassured," Mahariel noted sharply.

Duncan sighed and gestured for us to continue moving toward the camp.

"The darkspawn horde grows with each passing day. Soon they look to outnumber us. I know there is an Archdemon behind this. But I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feelings," he explained, frustration evident in his voice.

I knew exactly why, but I remained quiet. I wasn't in Duncan's good books right now.

Mahariel spoke for me. "Why not? He seems to regard the Grey Wardens highly."

"But not enough to wait for reinforcements from Orlais. We are too few in Ferelden, but he thinks our legend makes him invulnerable. We must look to Loghain to make up the difference."

Yet I knew Loghain wouldn't. Loghain, who was both insane and sensible. Who Cailan refused to listen to, just like he refused to listen to everyone else. In the beginning, I had been so furious with Loghain's decision, but now... It's not one he made lightly, but one he made because he was forced to. In the end, Cailan only had himself to blame.

"For that reason we must proceed with the Joining ritual without delay."

"Wait, what does this ritual do? Aside from making us Grey Wardens," I interjected, crossing my arms.

Duncan crossed his arms back at me. "The Joining will cure you of the suffering that the taint brings you both. If it had been possible, I would have done it before now."

I huffed and dropped my arms. "Right, but what do we have to do?"

Please, don't say I have to go with them. I can't do anything, I can't even use my magic properly.

"For now, Mahariel, you may explore the camp as you please. The Grey Warden tent is on the other side of the bridge, should you wish to find a meal. When you are done, find a Grey Warden named Alistair, and tell him to gather the other recruits. Elizabeth... Come with me."

His eyes, soft on Mahariel, became steel when they turned to me.

I meekly followed him, and Mahariel trailed behind, much more interested in his surroundings than getting to the camp.

"Theron," I whispered, "if you find any flowers with red centers, can you pick them for me?"

Mahariel gave me a questioning look.

"I just need it for something. Please? I'll owe you a favor."

The elf's brow twitched, but he nodded silently in assent, and I thanked him.

When we crossed the bridge a guard greeted us cordially, and Duncan took the right path, straight toward the mage camp and their purple tents. I saw three mages, arms moving swirls of strange silvery light around into a single funnel. Right, communing with the Fade. It was strange to see such a thing, like from a movie, but to know it was really there. I could touch those people. Maybe even do what they were doing.

Templars, though. They were foreboding, though their armor was admittedly strange. I was glad for my unassuming clothes now. I looked like a servant, someone that needed no thought. If Duncan had gotten me elf robes or something... I think I'd be in trouble. More than I am, that is.

"Wynne," Duncan greeted, bowing his head in respect.

My heart stuttered. Wynne! I stopped as Duncan did and stared at the older mage. I probably looked like a loon. She had a sweet face, her hair completely white and held back in a tight, short tail. But even so, she lacked serious wrinkles of age and her hands were smooth. She looked nothing like her... But she reminded me of my mother. She had such a gentle, matronly aura.

"Duncan," Wynne replied, voice warm, "It is good to see you. Is this another recruit?"

The Warden nodded. "Hopefully. She is... Untrained, however. She has lost her memory. She claims to remember few things from her past, none of which relating to her talent. If she had talent before her loss, any memory of how to control it is gone."

Wynne's eye widened in alarmed, then narrowed in calculation as she looked me over. I shifted uncomfortably and looked at the tree behind her.

"You wish me to train her? We have only a day before the next attack. There is little I can do for her in such a short time."

"Do as much as you can. I believe she shows some promise, but she lacks control. She would be a valuable addition to the Wardens with the right training."

Wynne sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "It takes years to be a properly trained mage. She would be better off with the Circle."

"No!" I squeaked, reeling back. They both looked at me, Duncan with a raised brow, and Wynne with understanding. "I-I mean... I'd rather not, if that's okay?"

Wynne gave a half smile. "... Do you have a mage in the wardens who can train her?"

"I do, but he is indisposed right now."

She sighed heavily and uncrossed her arms. "I will do what I can. What is your name?"

"Elizabeth," I answered quietly. "Duncan, what about the ritual?"

The Warden shook his head. "It is tradition that you would go with the other recruits to gather the needed resources, but you lack the skills to keep up with them. We will have to forego tradition in this case."

Basically, if I went to hunt darkspawn with the rest of them, I would end up dead. Duncan was really counting on me training up to be a good mage. Were they so desperate for mage Wardens?

"Okay..."

"Go with Wynne. I will have someone retrieve you when it is time."

I nodded and stepped closer to Wynne while Duncan promptly turned and left. It was as if he had wiped his hands of me. I felt a twinge of hurt in my chest.

"Come with me," Wynne murmured patiently and led me away.

My resolve to learn magic was weak, but if it kept me from setting anything and anyone else on fire, then I really had no choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Oct. 1, 2015


	5. Chapter 5

The mage tents were noticeably separate from the rest of the tents, aside from being colored in dark blues and purples as opposed to yellows and reds. There were less templars among the mage tents than I thought there would be, but then I noticed it.

The templars weren't among the mages, they were surrounding them. Plain blue tents edged in the other darker ones. I had assumed they were mage tents as well until a pair of templars exited one.

After that anyone with an eye could tell that the lighter blue tents circled the darker colored ones in an effect "fence." I didn't know whether to stick closer to Wynne or leave altogether to avoid suspicion by association. I wasn't a Warden yet and Duncan might still decide I wasn't useful enough. As a tainted apostate, I doubt the templars would let me near a Circle. It was unlikely I would live past the hour Duncan handed me over to them.

Wynne ushered me into her deep purple tent, which appeared to be occupied just by her judging from the single cot.

"Sit," she urged, gesturing to the cushions on the tarp covered ground. Or, well, was it tarp? Well, it wasn't dirt, and there was a cushion for my sore hind end. I sat gratefully.

"Now, tell me about how you first came to use your magic."

"Um..." Why is it everyone wanted to hear about the event I least remembered? "Well, Duncan would know more than me. He said he found me surrounded by fire, but it wasn't burning me, so he suspected it came from me and called me a mage."

The elder mage's lips thinned, and she crossed her arms in contemplation. "I see... Most mages are unharmed by their own creations because it is made of their magic. It would be like your very body turning against you. I can understand why he thought you a mage."

I could name a few diseases that did just that.

"Is there any other time you used magic that you can remember clearly?"

I sighed, my breath heavy with reluctance. "Yeah. A few days ago Duncan lit a fire and told me to meditate on the flames. I honestly don't really know how to meditate, but I did what he said. The next thing I know Theron was dragging me away and there's a giant black circle around the campfire. Like it turned into a bonfire. Apparently I did it. I mean, I guess it'd have to have been me because Duncan and Theron aren't mages."

Wynne's face eased with understanding, nodding at my tale. At least someone around here knew what was going on.

"It was foolish of Duncan to try that, but he is not a mage and doesn't understand what he tried to make you do. Without guidance, such things are prone to happening."

"What happened?" I asked shortly. I could hear the snap in my voice. So could Wynne.

She arched her brows at me and proceeded to explain. "When mages meditate it is to seek the magic within them. It is a control exercise, to focus within yourself and your power. What Duncan had you do was externalize your focus on an outside source. He had you skip a step. Sometimes we have young mages do this first if they have trouble seeking their power within themselves. It makes it easier to feel their magic. But never without appropriate supervision. I'm sure you understand why. Do you remember what you felt while you did this?"

I shrugged helplessly. "Not really? Sort of, but... It's hard to explain."

"Do your best."

"Okay. It felt kind of... Trance like. I couldn't see anything but the fire. The fire was just, like, my whole world. Nothing else mattered. I didn't even know Theron had dragged me off until he started screaming in my ear."

That didn't appear to surprise Wynne, but she didn't exactly look happy either.

"... You have a strong connection with fire," she said after a moment. "It's the most volatile of the elements, hard to control, but the easiest to draw from. Right now we only have one day, so we'll not stray further than what comes easily to you."

"What does that mean?" I asked. There was no way we were going to start talking magic and I wasn't going to ask questions from a senior enchanter herself.

Like the teacher she was, she didn't even hesitate to jump right into sharing her knowledge. "Elemental magic is tied closely with the world. There is fire, ice, earth, and lightning. They each correspond with natural phenomena of the world. Fire with volcanoes, ice with water, earth with, well, earth, and lightning with storms. It is not uncommon for mages to learn a certain affinity for one because they are the easiest branch of magic to learn the basics of. But not many mages have a strong connection to the elemental magics."

"So, elemental magic is the basic magic that mages start training with? What's the difference between having a connection and an affinity?"

Wynne's lips quirked in a smile. "To a point, yes. The reason for this is because of its natural occurrences in the world. It is easier to draw from what there is already potential for in the world, even if it is not presently in the same room.

"But affinities and connections... Well, firstly, all mages have certain affinities. Branches of magic that their own magic corresponds to. My affinity in elemental magic is earth. I can use other parts of elemental magic as well, but they do not respond so easily to me as the earth does. Connections, however, are different. Not every mage has a connection to a branch of magic. I do. I am what is known as a Spirit Healer. My magic connects strongly with the mending of the body. You could say I am drawn to healing."

I bit my lip. "I'm still not really seeing what the difference between 'affinity' and 'connection' is. It sounds like both are just branches of magic that are easier for you to use."

"That is true. Perhaps I'm not being clear. There are feats mages with connections can accomplish that mages who only have affinities in the same area would find hard to do. If I were to heal a man who had broken his leg I would not find myself overly drained afterward. However, a mage who only has an affinity for healing would be winded after such, and a mage without an affinity would likely not be able to heal an injury so severe at all."

Now that made more sense. "What does that mean for me with fire?"

"It means that fire will be especially responsive to you. When you start gaining more control it will be very easy for you to conjure flames without fire nearby to draw from. Other mages with affinity for flame can do the same, but likely not to the same size as you will be able to. I have seen a mage with a connection for ice create fine statues that would take several other mages working in tandem to make."

That was... Not as cool as I thought it would be. It must have shown on my face because Wynne chuckled.

"That will come later. Right now I will teach you to properly meditate to find your magic. It might seem boring now, but it is crucial to your control. I want you to do this every night, without fail. A mage that cannot control their magic is a mage that will hurt those around them. Especially with such a connection as fire."

Here comes the hard work. I slumped in defeat and prepared myself.

"Sit up straight. You are not a sack of flour," Wynne reprimanded sharply. "Now, close your eyes, and focus on that trance-like feeling. Remember how your body felt. Empty your mind, and do not think of anything but that feeling."

I straightened my body and followed her instructions. It wasn't that dissimilar to what Duncan had been trying to make me do, but my eyes were closed this time.

"Search yourself for where that feeling comes from. Do not try to bring it forward," She warned, "but tell me if you find it."

It was a lot harder than it sounded. How does someone just stop thinking? Well, except for one thing. I tried to hold onto that one thing, the feeling of that trance, like it was a life line. It was more like groping in the dark for an echo. I hadn't expected this to be easy, but... Well, I'm not really sure what I had been expecting. They didn't really talk about how mages were trained in the games.

"I'm not feeling anything," I complained.

"Because you are interrupting yourself. It is not going to happen immediately or whenever you feel like it. You are not used to your magic yet. You have not established a bond with it. When you were a child you did not come from the womb walking, did you?"

"No," I replied, maybe just a tad grumpy.

"Then do not expect this to be as easy as walking when you have only just begun. When a babe begins to walk he starts at crawling. This will be your crawling stage."

Can I skip that stage? I didn't dare voice that to Wynne, instead mumbling an apology.

"Now, try again. This time do not speak until you have what you are searching for."

* * *

That is what I did all day. I meditated until I was a mass of frustration and hunger. Only twice did I manage to find what I was searching my useless body for and each time Wynne congratulated me and told me to do it again. The feeling of elation at my accomplishment only lasted so long.

Eventually Wynne let me get up and stretch. As she took me to the mess hall, mess gathering, really, for mages I asked, "So, what are the staffs for? Do you really need them to do magic?"

"Not necessarily, but they are what you could call a conduit for magic. They make it easier to guide your magic. When you use your body as a guide you must keep the connection with your magic, and this requires more control. With a staff, to put it simply, you don't have to think about it. It follows from you to the staff and from the staff to the direction the staff is pointed in. It is less of a drain on you. When your body is the guide it must work continuously keep open the connection whereas a staff will take what it is given, no more or less. You will learn when it is better to use a staff or your body."

Several other mages greeted Wynne, stopping briefly to inquire about who I was. Wynne was cordial, but only ever told them I was a Grey Warden recruit. We got our bowls of stew and sat by ourselves.

"... What am I going to do if I don't have anyone to teach me?" My voice was quiet; I hadn't really meant to ask, but it was out, and I suppose I could use the answer to that.

Wynne's brows arched at the question. She had really expressive brows, even if they were thin.

"Well, experiment, I suppose. Mages weren't always in Circles and I would think apostates learn to use their magic somehow. I understand you don't want to join a Circle, but even being a warden might not stay a templar's hand if you are alone. Do not forget your meditation and always strive for better control."

"What about demons?" She hadn't mentioned demons yet and I didn't know if she was just trying to avoid the topic or what.

She sighed and I'm pretty sure she had been trying to avoid the topic until I brought it up. "Have you felt demons in your sleep?"

"Yeah." Wynne didn't need to explain. I could remember vividly the terrible violet eyes of what I thought had been my friends and sister. 

As much as she didn't want to talk about it, she did anyway. "What do you do?"

"I run. They laugh at me, but I just run."

"You don't say anything back?"

I shook my head and stuffed a soggy piece of potato in my mouth so I wouldn't have to speak.

"Then that's all you can do. Don't talk to them. No matter what they look like, no matter what they say, never respond. I won't tell you not to run, every mage has a different way of dealing with demons, but never talk to them. When you respond you give them a foothold and, sometimes, that's all they need."

* * *

We finished eating and continued our conversation on lighter subjects. She explained the origins, according to the Chantry, of darkspawn. I knew it already, but I didn't stop her. I was curious about everything she had to tell me, and she didn't seem busy with anything else.

Eventually, someone came to get me by the time it was growing dark.

"Elizabeth."

Mahariel, stoic as ever, came to fetch me back to Duncan.

I smiled and stood. "Hey. Is it time?"

He nodded and held out a handful of white flowers with red centers. "Are these your flowers?"

"I think so. Thank you. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you. Promise." These flowers were much more useful than he realized. "Do you mind if we go by the kennels first?"

The elf shrugged nonchalantly in a way I was coming to recognize as his version of "whatever."

I clutched the flowers and said my farewell. "Thank you, Wynne. Please, be careful."

My one-time teacher smiled gently. "I will not be at the fore of the army, have no fear."

I knew Wynne was supposed to survive this, but it was different now. I knew her. Maybe not closely, but she was a real person who could be harmed. It still so boggling that these were real people.

I chewed on my lips. "All right. Thank you."

"So you said. Now, be off. And good luck."

I mustered up a smile and followed Mahariel out.

"How was your hunting?" I asked quietly, shuffling beside him.

"It was well. No one was harmed and we found what we were looking for."

Psh, he was so leaving things out. "That's good... How are the other recruits?"

"One is a coward, and the other... Is decent."

Jory and Daveth... I can't say I liked either of them. Jory abandoned his wife and unborn child for supposed glory, and Daveth, well, I suppose it was less that I didn't like him and more I didn't have an opinion of him.

I spotted the kennels and a worried looking man hovering beside one kennel in particular. That was him. Maybe it was selfish of me, considering I wasn't really a dog person, but I just wanted one friend in this place. One true and loyal friend. Mahariel was the main character here, I was going to make sure he lived with all my meager skills, and he was going to make friends and fall in love. The least this place could let me have was a dog.

"Hey. Hi, um, I heard you were looking for some flowers?" I said, jogging up to the man. In the kennel beside him a huge dog panted weakly on his side. I hope I wasn't too late.

"What? Yes! These are the flowers I need, how did you know?" The man exclaimed, eagerly plucking the flowers from my hand.

"Oh, I just, you know, heard. Around. Some of my fellow warden recruits went into the Wilds today, and I asked him to get me some if he found them, so there you have it," I spilled awkwardly, shifting on my feet.

"You're a warden recruit? Could you... Help me? I need to muzzle him so I can treat him, but he won't let me near. Maybe you, being what you are, can do it."

I didn't wait a beat to reply, "sure!"

Was that too quick? The kennel master didn't seem to care, he was just relieved. "Great. Here." He passed me a muzzle. "Just slip this on him. The buckle is right there. Just go in easy, and talk to him. He's a mabari, he understands what you say."

I just nodded, looking over the muzzle to make sure I knew what was what. The man opened the kennel gate, and I slowly slipped inside. I know this was just a chance and maybe this mabari wouldn't even meet up with us later, but I had to try.

Until now I think I underestimated just how much I needed a companion. I had planned this, I was taking away Mahariel's opportunity to have a companion for myself. The mabari looked at me with his big, dark eyes, growling faintly. Dogs could smell fear, did he smell my indecision?

I gripped the muzzle tighter and approached him. I needed someone who could protect me on this fucked up journey, if I survived the ritual. "Hey, boy. You're not feeling too good, are you?" I whispered, hunkering down. Even laying down this dog was huge. He looked like a beefy mastiff crossbreed, all barrel-chested and downright dangerous. He had scars and faint black paint to distinguish the difference between him and other mabari.

"I understand. I have what you do. I got tainted by darkspawn." I continued scooting closer as I spoke to him, and his growling lessened with every word. "Tonight I'm going through a ritual that might cure me. Those flowers that I gave your friend there, they can cure you too. But you have to let me help, okay?"

The big dog whined, ears flat and unhappy against his head.

"I know, it sucks, but I promise it's only to help. Maybe you and I can be friends after this mess is over."

The dog whuffed, but leaned his head forward. I carefully put the muzzle on him, stroking his short fur. It was thicker than it looked, and the paint was flaking off. His master had died, there was no one to reapply his marks.

I patted him encouragingly and stood. "There you go. He's a sweet boy."

"Yeah, mabari are good dogs," the man agreed. "This one's lost his master, though, poor fellow. Though... What do you say you come by tomorrow, and see if he won't re-imprint on you? He'd be better suited as a Warden's dog, if he survives the blood he swallowed."

I wouldn't be here tomorrow and neither would he. For a lot of people here there wasn't going to be a tomorrow. 

"Yeah, sounds like a plan," I said, smiling stiffly. "I hope he's feeling better in the morning."

"Elizabeth."

How was it Mahariel could convey so many different things with just one name?

"Coming. Sorry, I'll see you tomorrow. Stay safe." I waved as I trotted back to Mahariel. I wanted to choke myself. So many people would die tomorrow, and the best I could do was tell them to "stay safe."

As I followed Mahariel to the bonfire where Duncan waited, I knew my life was at a forked path. Two men were going to die during this ritual tonight, one because of it and the other on Duncan's own sword. Mahariel was the only one who was certain to keep his life, even if he didn't know it.

Here I am making all these plans, and swearing I would see Mahariel alive at the end of this, but tonight I might be dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Oct. 3, 2015


	6. Chapter 6

By the bonfire was not only Duncan, but the other recruits and another Warden who could be no one other than Alistair. As we got closer I wondered how it was that anyone managed to keep it a secret that Alistair was a royal bastard.

He looked so much like Cailan. It was uncanny, really. I had once been friends with a girl whose younger sister looked just like her in the way Alistair looked like Cailan. It wasn't exact, but they were undeniably siblings.

Tall, too. One thing Alistair did have on Cailan was height. But it was a bit of a gangly height. Cailan had been all broad shoulders, width of muscle in his golden costume armor. Alistair didn't quite look like he had grown into his body yet. Oh, he certainly had muscles, he would have to, but he just wasn't... There yet. Cusp of manhood and all.

Just how old was everyone who would eventually be part of the warden party? How old was Mahariel?

Duncan interrupted my thoughts with introductions.

"Good of you to join us, Elizabeth. These are your fellow recruits, Jory and Daveth. Alistair is a warden who will be assisting in the ritual tonight."

I looked between them and raised an awkward hand to wave. "Hello." I tried to smile, but my lips twitched uselessly.

Jory, already stressed from the jaunt in the Wilds, scowled at me. "Another recruit? Why did she not come with us to gather the blood of those beasts? This is not right."

"Fuck you," I mumbled, crossing my arms under my chest. "You don't know shit about right."

"Enough," Duncan cut as Jory tried to growl a retort. "Why she did not join you in the Wilds is of no concern to you. If everyone is ready, we will start the ritual soon."

I huffed, and tightened my arms together while the others gave various replies of assent.

"Good. Alistair, take them to the old temple."

We followed Alistair like a gaggle of silent ducklings. I knew the other three were probably wondering what was going to happen. I was just trying to keep myself together. These would be the first deaths I would see in Thedas. I suppose I should be glad I wouldn't get close to them.

"Alistair? Do you know what this ritual does to us?" I asked as we got closer to the temple, "Aside from making us Grey Wardens?"

The junior Warden glanced at me, and I saw a quick assessment run through his eyes.

"You'll get outrageous appetites. All Wardens eat loads of food. In the beginning, anyway. I've been told we get over that after a couple years, but I still see everyone eat like pigs when food is put in front of them."

I knew that bit. Tell me something I don't know. There had to be more than what was said in the game.

"Um, you'll live about thirty years after it, assuming you don't die before then."

"Thirty years? Why thirty years?" Jory asked, ever nervous.

"The blood gives you the taint by itself, right? But whatever is done to the blood for the ritual holds off that taint. But it only holds it off for so long. Thirty years is about when older wardens start feeling what they say is the Calling. After that they usually go to the Deep Roads. I've only known one Warden that felt the Calling."

Likely because few lived long enough. By now we had reached the temple and were waiting for Duncan to arrive, shuffling our feet anxiously on the ground.

"Anything else?" I asked, hoping he might have a little more for me.

"Ah," Alistair began shuffling, and I knew it was something he felt was embarrassing. "I don't suppose you're wanting children, are you?"

I blinked, waiting for my ears to catch up with his words. He charged on without waiting for an answer.

"Because the ritual kind of... Takes that away. At least, a large possibility of children. I haven't met a Warden yet that had a child after the ritual. Not that there are many women in the Grey Wardens."

My brows rose. "That so? Huh... Do any of these women mention anything about their periods?"

"Their what?"

Poor Alistair. Did he even know about that stuff? I figured I could stop and have mercy on him now... Or keep going and get answers while embarrassing him further.

"Monthly bleeding? Nearly all women have it. I can explain if you don't know what it is."

My prize was to see Alistair's face go from confused to full blown cherry-red. Damn. The other men didn't look much better, although Mahariel was more disgusted. Some things were universal.

"Ah ha ha, that..." Alistair tried to laugh it off awkwardly. "W-Well-"

A smooth answer saved Alistair.

"Most women who join the Grey Wardens do not experience their monthly bleeding after the ritual. The few that do continue to have this experience do not have it regularly."

Duncan had returned and brought a goblet with him. I had enough of my mind to not jump for joy and simply smiled instead. One less thing to worry about in this place. Well, two, maybe. I wasn't planning on sex, but everything was possible.

"The first Grey Wardens used this ritual to give themselves power to defeat the darkspawn. Since then we have used the Joining as our predecessors have. It is the source of our strength and victory."

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint," Alistair added. He appeared to have overcome his earlier embarrassment at my hands. "We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon."

Duncan bowed his head over the goblet. "There are only a few words said for the Joining, but they have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would."

Alistair bowed his head as well, and I felt a bit like it was a prayer at church, but not quite so nice.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

Amen.

"Step forward, Elizabeth."

What?

I hesitated, for obvious reasons, but Duncan stepped forward for me and pressed the goblet into my hands. It was warm from his touch.

Mechanically, I lifted the goblet to my mouth. Just like any old drink, yeah. I didn't give myself a chance to look at it as I tilted the goblet and the blood passed my lips.

It was disgusting. It tasted like blood, metallic in flavor, but it was so much worse. I could taste the corruption, more vile than anything I've had in my life. It clung to my tongue and down my throat, coating my esophagus all the way to my stomach. 

I gasped as soon as I swallowed my mouthful, shoving the goblet back in Duncan's hands. That corruption spread like a parasite, invading my very being. I gagged, prepared to expel what I had just consumed, and started to list forward.

I was grateful I didn't feel myself hit the ground.

* * *

My survival was apparent when I woke, and all I could remember was a screaming dragon against a background of putrid green light and vague washes of smoke. That was the Archdemon? I couldn't remember its features clearly, just a silhouette of spikes and beating wings.

"Are you all right? Only one person died during my Joining... But it was horrible," Alistair said sympathetically as he helped me sit up.

I didn't glance around to look for the bodies of Jory and Daveth; I didn't want to see them.

"Who died?" I asked quietly. It would be suspicious if I didn't.

"Jory and Daveth. The blood didn't take to Daveth, and Jory didn't take to Daveth's death. He tried to run."

And Mahariel had survived, like I knew he would. He wasn't far from me, waking up with Duncan to tend to him.

I got to my feet, Alistair once again helping me when I almost pitched forward into the ground again. My head ached, and I noticed now it wasn't just from the blood cocktail.

"Ow," I hissed, gingerly feeling my forehead.

Alistair gave a wince of empathy and handed over a handkerchief. Where had that come from?

I dabbed my head with it, coming away with a few red spots of blood. It was less than I had thought.

"You're going to have a nice bruise there. Courtesy of the Joining and all. I had one too. They don't catch you when you fall."

"How rude," I joked as I returned Alistair's kerchief.

He chuckled, but didn't get a chance to respond as Mahariel and Duncan joined us.

"Did you have dreams?" I asked, curious to know if Mahariel had seen the same thing I had. He nodded, rubbing the back of his head. I guess he'd fallen the opposite way I had.

"I had dreams after my Joining as well," Alistair chimed.

"Such dreams are the beginning of sensing darkspawn. They will continue for the rest of your lives."

That was so cheerful, Duncan, thank you. Ugh, didn't Alistair mention that Wardens that joined during a Blight had much more vivid dreams? My dreams were already vivid enough without darkspawn corruption to make them worse.

"Take some time," Duncan urged. "When you're ready I would like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king."

Me too? Well, okay. Wait, no, I changed my mind. I don't want to meet Loghain. He was intimidating enough through a video game.

"Do you want me to come also?" I asked before Duncan could escape.

He eyed me and I could see his gaze harden. "Yes, and you will treat the king with proper respect."

Damn it.

"Okay," I grumbled.

"Yes, sir," he corrected.

"Yes, sir." I didn't even try to be cheeky.

"The meeting is down the stairs to the right, please come when you're ready," He informed us before leaving with Alistair at his back.

My eyes flicked to Mahariel. He didn't look too good, but I doubted I looked much better. We were both pasty white and I was as close to puking as I suspected he was. Frankly, I was surprised that hadn't kill me, but I guessed the one thing I had in common with Mahariel saved me.

The taint we had gotten before coming to Ostagar.

Maybe my body became used to the corruption beforehand, like a vaccine. You would think it might have the opposite effect, making the corruption too much for our bodies. I guess not.

"You look like shit," I mumbled, huffing a tired laugh.

He gave me one of those looks. "... So do you."

"We should start a club."

"Too late."

I barked a laugh of surprise and we fell into a more companionable silence.

We were comrades now. I only hoped we could become friends through this mess. I didn't want to be the leader of the band we would make, but I would do my best to support Mahariel in everything we did. Neither of us deserved what was happening to us, but him least of all. I was prepared while he knew nothing. 

"Theron... Am I going to fuck this up?"

"What?"

Oh, he doesn't know what I'm even saying.

I smiled and shook my head, stopping quickly when my bruise gave a throb of displeasure. "No, never mind. Just don't put me in charge, okay?"

"... Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Oct. 3, 2015


	7. Chapter 7

We spent a few more moments in the quiet, listening to the noise around us, and just breathing through the aftermath of our recent experience. Our lives had been changed forever, we were entitled to a bit of "me" time.

It couldn't last forever, though. Eventually Mahariel stood, and I took that as my cue to follow him to our prelude of doom. I didn't want to hear Cailan playing at commander, ignoring anything else but the sound of his own voice.

I watched the men currently speaking about the battle plans as we walked in, Alistair hovering quietly behind Duncan. Mahariel and I joined him, and I did my best to pretend I was invisible.

"... Duncan, are your forces ready for battle?" Cailan asked, terse but still polite.

Loghain had a sour expression on his face, armor clinking as he crossed his arms in disapproval.

Right... Arguments abound. No one wanted to listen to the other and the king in for the glory was the one with all the veto power. I had a flash of sympathy for Loghain, who had been dealing with Cailan's bull-headedness longer than I had.

"They are, your majesty," Duncan replied dutifully.

"And these are the recruits I met earlier on the road? I understand congratulations are in order." The king smiled proudly at us both, as if his pride in us meant anything.

Duncan shot me a stern glance, and I mumbled a polite thanks with the proper royal address under Mahariel's more clear answer of "thank you, your majesty."

"Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored to join their ranks."

I grumbled again and easily tuned out their battle strategizing. All I had to do was light the tower-

Light the tower. Fuck. There were going to be darkspawn in the tower. An ogre at the top, even. I would rather the ritual have killed me than an ogre biting my head off after squeezing my organs to a pulp. Ribs crushing inward, piercing my lungs, my heart. Internal organs rupturing under the pressure of a huge hand, squashing me like a bug...

I gave a small whimper as Cailan suggested they send their "best."

"Send Alistair and the new Grey Wardens to make sure it's done."

I interrupted before more could be said. "Y-Your majesty, surely the people there are more than enough to light the tower. Perhaps we could join Loghain's forces?"

No wait, he would just have us killed, wouldn't he? Wait, that wasn't any better! My mouth, someone take my mouth away.

Cailan gave me a reassuring smile, stupid little me. "Have no fear, I believe you and your fellow Wardens will ensure the tower is lit. It is a vital task, and I would not ask that you be sent if you could not do it."

Well, this is it. My life was over.

Meekly, I resigned myself and slipped behind Mahariel and Alistair. Can't break down in front of royalty, can we (yes, we can)? 

Duncan was quick to change to topic, which I had made so awkward.

"Your majesty, you should consider the possibility of an Archdemon."

"That's what your men are here for, right Duncan?" Cailan questioned, a disarming smile across his face. It was a smile I had seen on the television all the time, a politician's smile. He was completely dismissing Duncan's worries. No wonder he hadn't felt confident in telling the king his fears.

"I- ... Yes, your majesty," the elder warden said, defeated.

An upset mage, who had been quiet until now, burst into the conversation, an aging chantry mother at his heels.

"Your majesty, the Grey Wardens are completely unnecessary at the Tower of Ishal! The Circle mages are-"

"I would not trust your spells with such an important task," the mother interrupted before the mage could finish. "Save them for the darkspawn, mage."

Under the stares of everyone else at the meeting, the mage wilted and bowed out, casting a baleful glare at the mother. She only huffed, wrinkling her pointed nose in the air. 

The meeting was over at this point. Duncan bowed out, gesturing us to follow, while Loghain and Cailan continued to snip at each other. As soon as we reached the bonfire, Duncan turned his disappointed eyes on me.

My outburst. Duncan wasn't the kind of man to question orders. For a little newbie Warden like me to say something like that to a king, well, maybe I was lucky Cailan was unoffended.

Satisfied that I had been sufficiently scolded by his gaze, Duncan began his pep talk.

"You heard the king. You will go to the Tower of Ishal and help light the beacon."

"Wait, me too?" Alistair squawked, "I thought I would be joining you in battle!"

"He said 'Alistair and the new Wardens,' unless you changed your name in the last few minutes." I grumbled, hunching my shoulders and tucking my crossed arms under my chest.

Mahariel rolled his eyes. No doubt he thought we were being whiny. Duncan's expression agreed.

"So he needs three Grey Wardens standing up there to hold to the torch. Just in case, right?" Alistair complained.

"Yeah, one of us might fall off the fuckin' tower. It's more common than you think, falling Wardens. We're a clumsy bunch."

Mahariel had enough. "Stop your whining," He snapped, brows drawn. "We were given a job, and we are going to do it. Your complaints do you no good."

I mumbled incoherently while Duncan agreed with Mahariel. "We must do whatever it takes to defeat the darkspawn... Exciting or no."

Alistair threw up his hands, understanding we had been shot down. We didn't have a chance in this argument anyway.

"I get it, I get it. Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put a dress on and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."

I snorted, caught off guard by one of Alistair's iconic lines in the game. "Would you put on a dress and not dance? Or dance without the dress?"

"Neither. I have my dignity. Well, some," Alistair replied, the corners of his mouth quirked in amusement.

Duncan sighed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "children" before he raised his voice.

"The tower is on the other side of the bridge from where we entered. You will need to cross the gorge, head through the gate, and up the tower entrance. From the top you will overlook the entire valley."

The valley where a massacre was about to occur. Lightning struck in the distance, and I flinched, looking up at the dark sky. Black clouds had begun to obscure the stars. I hadn't remembered a storm in the game. I hoped it didn't start raining. How suitably ominous would that be?

"When do we light the beacon?" Mahariel asked. Good, old Mahariel, always on top of the important things.

"We will signal you when the time is right," Duncan explained. "Alistair will know what to look for."

"When does the battle start?" I questioned, looking around. Everyone was in a hustle, preparing for the battle to come. "Wasn't it supposed to be tomorrow?"

Duncan nodded. "It was pushed to tonight. The horde is moving faster than we expected. We have a few hours. Go to the quarter master, and ask for suitable armor and a staff. I do not expect you will need it, but there might be archers and catapults that reach the tower. Move quickly, and once you are done head to the tower."

I nodded, face grim. I sure as hell would need them. Archers would be getting a lot more up close and personal than I ever wanted them to.

"Now, I must join the others. From here you are on your own. I expect you will do well, and we will rejoin once the battle is over."

Don't say those words. I looked away so he couldn't see my grimacing face. I felt tears clawing at me when Alistair spoke as Duncan began walking away.

"Duncan... May the Maker watch over you."

The elder warden paused and nodded to Alistair. "May he watch over us all."

My eyes burned and not from the smoke from the bonfire we were so close to. The fire flickered, but I ignored any possibility that it was my fault. Damn emotions.

"So," I coughed. "So, let's go get my shit. I don't know how to put armor on."

Mahariel nodded. "I will help you."

"Thanks."

The three of us walked in silence to the quartermaster, who was already busy outfitting some young soldier. I waited until he waved the boy off before approaching.

"Hello? I need armor and a staff, please."

The balding man eyed me with a sniff. "Mage, are you? Can't you get your things from one o' those tranquil men? I don't know why I was given all the mage staffs." He grumbled, looking me up and down.

Safety, that's why. A non-mage couldn't use those staffs, and mages were never to be trusted with any source of power. Templars knew all too well that mages with a staff could fight longer with a staff than without. 

"I dunno. I can check the staffs myself, if you want. I just need some armor to go with it. I don't want any robes, please."

"Do as you please. Leather armor will have to do for you. Soft mage... Anything else would be too heavy." The man continued grumbling, picking through his inventory. He waved a hand to his weapons, and I saw a few staffs leaning upright against a weapon's rack, kept in a barrel.

I shrugged and stepped forward, eyeing the polished wood. Certain staffs had certain features in the game. Would these be regular, all-purpose staffs, or would they be suited for certain elements? Even if they were I doubted I'd be unable to tell the difference.

They mostly looked the same, made of some strange combination of metal and wood with carved tops. The most appealing one was the top with twined dragon heads. I had seen this type before in the game, even drawn it a few times in my admiration. I knew I wanted it, regardless of what it was for and the fact I was picking selfishly based on aesthetics.

As soon as I touched it I felt the heat under my hands, almost hot enough to burn. I made a noise in the back of my throat, nearly dropping it back into the barrel.

"What?" The quartermaster demanded.

"Nothing. I want this one," I said quickly, pulling the staff out and clutching it close. The heat filled me, starting with my hands and spreading to my body. Nearby torches seemed a little bigger and brighter.

"Fine. Here's your armor. Put it on, don't want no slipping off in battle," the man gruffed, handing off some leather to me.

I freed a hand to take the armor and looked helplessly at Mahariel. Where Duncan was Alistair's babysitter, Mahariel was mine.

The elf sighed and stepped forward. "Put the staff down. This goes on over your clothes," He instructed, taking the armor from me.

He helped, moving my body and limbs for me and explaining the various buckles with succinct descriptions. The armor felt so snug, especially across my breasts. These jugs were not made to be stuffed in generic armor.

By the end of it Mahariel looked me over critically. "... Your chest guard might be too tight, but a bigger size would not be to your benefit. You will have to make do. Can you move well?"

I made a face, but twisted around and bent forward and backward to test the flexibility. "I'm all right." I agreed grudgingly. My breasts might be squished, but it was a small price to pay for protection.

"Thank you," I said with absent politeness to the quartermaster.

He only waved me away, already busy with another soldier.

There were still a few hours left before the battle. What were we supposed to do? Should we risk going to the tower early and fend off the ogre? How did that ogre even squeeze his way up to the top?

"Come on, let's go to the bridge. We can watch the battle start," Alistair said, making the decision for me.

"Shouldn't we go to the tower first, though? We can see it from there too," I suggested, trotting after his long strides.

"We'll have time," he said, just as dismissive as his brother. They were both so confident. The difference was Alistair's confidence would be forever shaken after this battle. Cailan wouldn't have the chance to regret his overconfidence.

As we walked through the camp there were only a few soldiers still running about. It seemed most had already emptied into the valley. Not even the mages and templars were left in their colorful purple and blue tents. The few tranquil that had been brought were left standing around like automatons. Creepy.

When we reached the bridge I certainly wasn't aware that I would see... This.

The ground was covered. In people, in dogs, in darkspawn. I didn't realize it at first, I simply thought the ground was dark, but a flash of lightning illuminated the valley.

The darkspawn were like ants, dark shapes only broken by large catapults and hulking purple-grey ogres.

And they were close. Closer than they had any right to be. If I was standing on the bridge, fear grasping my heart tight enough to stop it, I could only imagine the fear those soldiers below me felt. They might have faced battles with these things before, but not in this number. How could Cailan have thought it possible to stand up to this force and win?

"Alistair... We need to go to the tower," I whispered.

"No, wait, the battle hasn't started yet," he protested. Did he not understand the situation?

"Shut the _fuck_ up! We need to go to the fucking tower!" I snapped, my voice strained, cracking under the pressure of my fear.

Alistair reeled, staring at me. Beside me I could see from the corner of my eye that Mahariel was just as surprised with my outburst.

My cheeks heated, but I still glared. "Sorry. We just... Really need to go. We don't have hours anymore. They're too close."

The big warrior swallowed and took a look at the battlefield again, his head cleared from his excitement and disappointment at not being down there. "Sorry, you're right," he murmured.

Mahariel took a long look as well, brows dipping. "Something is wrong..."

I cocked my head, glancing again, though I didn't want to.

"Shit!" I gasped.

In the scant time I had screeched and Alistair had listened, the battle started. As the darkspawn charged, lightning flashed again and rain started to drop. One second it was dry, the next it was wet. I hadn't realized it was so windy until the heavy drops of moisture began hitting my face at an angle, almost horizontal.

Through the wet I saw a cloud of pitiful flames. The archers... I didn't want to stay and see this.

"We need to go to the tower now!" I repeated, yelling over the pelting rain. I stumbled as soldiers that had been in the camp now rushed to the battlefield, shouldering past me and my companions. They wouldn't make it, they had to go through the path by the tower first.

Instead of answering me verbally, Alistair and Mahariel began running across the bridge. "Bitches!" I swore and followed closely.

There were catapults in the darkspawn horde. Did they use them on the- Fuck!

I let out a yell as the bridge was hit, answering my question and killing several nearby ballista archers. I didn't dare look at the dying men; we had to get off this bridge.

"Move!" I yelped, scrambling up and taking off. Mahariel was quick to take the lead from me, but I heard Alistair clunking behind us. Another hit shook the bridge, but it was far enough behind us that we only stumbled.

We reached the other side, and I felt a brief rush of relief until I heard the screams. More men dying... This time from something not so big and easy to outrun.

For a moment I felt detached from the situation. How could it be real? I had never faced something like this before, I wasn't a physically violent person. I wouldn't go so far to say I was a good, nice, moral individual who would never think of hurting someone else, just that I had never done it before.

The feeling of detachment left quickly when we approached the source of the screams, and I saw my first darkspawn. My skin vibrated the moment I set eyes on the monster, who looked up... After he gutted the soldier in front of him, of course.

The man gasped, looking down in disbelief as his insides spilled out. An arrow flew and hit him in the head with a meaty thock! and he fell backward.

It wasn't exactly my shining moment as a fearless Warden. I whimpered and stepped back. My instincts told me to run, but I couldn't. If I did there were plenty of other darkspawn to find me. We were connected now. As much as I sensed them, they would sense me.

I couldn't freak out now. If I freaked out, I died.

Mahariel readied his bow and Alistair withdrew his sword, but as soon as the hurlock roared at us it was frozen.

Two men rushed forward, one clearly a mage in his blue robes and the other a soldier whose sword was wet with dark, recently spilled blood. He must have taken care of the darkspawn archer.

"You! You're... Grey Wardens, aren't you? The tower, it's been taken!" The soldier gasped. He panted and I saw spatters of the same dark liquid on his sword all over his armor. He had fought his way through darkspawn to get to this point. The mage didn't look much better.

"They're all over the tower, aren't they," I said pointlessly. No worries, captain obvious here at the worst time ever.

The man nodded anyway. "Yes, all the other men were killed when the 'spawn took the tower."

Alistair cursed. "Then we'll just have to light the beacon ourselves!"

So much for running into the wilderness to hook up with Morrigan and Flemeth early.

But even in my pathetically fear-ridden mind I could recognize that I stood the best chances with this group. Though the crazy idiots were going up against an ogre... But they didn't know that. Yet.

We went right back up the stone ramp the two men had come from. I was at the back of the group, clutching my hot staff like a security blanket. It steamed, making soft sizzling noises when the rain hit it. 

I didn't have much time to stay lost in my thoughts, darkspawn were upon us. This time we had everyone in the group. We were the rescuers.

Well, maybe not rescuing, I corrected, watching as the other soldiers battling were killed.

The darkspawn quickly noticed us, the fault of the Warden taint, and charged with bestial roars. I squeaked, backing up as the others readied themselves.

It wasn't like the game, where enemies had set hit points and you just kept bashing until they emptied. Alistair swiftly decapitated a hurlock, and it was done, blood spilling on the warrior's armor. Mahariel loosed an arrow and it met its target in the other hurlock's eye. The gore of true battle was right in front of me.

I handled it like any sane twenty-first century person who had never fought before would. I froze in place and stared like I was in a theatre. Right now, I was Bambi's mom, waiting for an arrow in my face.

Then one zoomed by, narrowing missing my nose.

"Fuck!" I shrieked, snapping out of my state of shock. I flailed back, looking for the source of the arrow.

Fucking genlock archer, hiding behind the trees.

Maybe I wasn't in the state of mind to fight, but I sure was in the state of mind to alert the people that could.

"Theron, archer behind the tree!" I called, "Over there!"

I gestured toward the genlock and felt a curl of magic leave me. 

"Holy shit!"

A stubbornly lit torch in front of the tree flared, a plume of fire hungrily racing up the branches until it nearly reached the top of the tall tree. The genlock snarled in surprise, reeling back, and made himself an easy target for Mahariel. The elf wasted no time and before I blinked the genlock was on the ground, arrow through his neck.

The flare dissipated when my wavering mana withdrew and the rain forced it down. Little fires in the tree's branches were quickly put out and the torch simmered for only a moment longer before it, too, was gone.

"You have a fire connection? That won't be much use out here," the mage muttered, speaking for the first time in a raspy voice. "Can you do ice?"

"No, I don't know how to do anything," I said miserably.

The mage made a disgusted noise. "Pathetic. Just keep using your fire then. If you can," he mocked, hastening his stride to follow the others.

I gaped after him. "Hey, fuck you!" I snarled, running to catch up. "I'm trying!"

"You stood around like a tranquil until your nose almost got taken off," the mage grumbled back.

"So what! I've never fought before! It won't happen again!" I protested, waving my staff at the man.

Magic curled up my arm again, but this time the staff... The staff _ate_ my mana. The round crystal held in place between the dragon heads glowed a fierce orange and a wide plume of fire belched outward.

I jumped with a shriek and the wide plume streaked jaggedly and sputtered out.

"Watch where you point that thing, wench!" The mage yelped, "Point it at that!"

I whirled where he pointed to and screamed. A hurlock was rushing toward me, jagged, ugly face an expression of horrible delight.

I didn't know what I was doing, but my body had some sort of instinct. I waved my staff frantically, but there was no magic curling down my arms. No fire burst from my fancy staff. So much for instinct.

"Fuck!"

Alistair jumped in front of me, taking the hurlock on. The huge thing's sword bashed the junior Warden's shield, but Alistair was trained for this. He threw the hurlock's sword arm wide, leaving him open for Alistair's sword to slip under and up the hurlock's armor. What meager armor he did wear. A choke and Alistair withdrew his sword to let the hurlock fall to the ground.

The face he made when he turned on us was not a kind one.

"The both of you shut up. There are darkspawn all around us, we don't have time for bickering."

Neither of us spoke again as we continued on. I stuck close to Mahariel, pointing out archers and trying to be as useful as possible when surrounded by the scariest things I had ever seen. I wanted a chance to freak out so badly. I could feel it building in my gut, but I just pressed it down, deeper and deeper. The reality of my situation was bashing itself over my head, there was no way I could ignore it after this.

The way to the doors of the tower was not long, but the darkspawn littering the path hindered us long enough to make it feel like forever. An alpha darkspawn before the front of the doors made me want to groan and tremble with fear at the same time.

He was big and well armored, compared to other darkspawn, and flanked by genlock archers. We couldn't stand to be distracted by this, and I was nothing but a distraction.

Thinking quickly, I darted under the wooden supports the genlock stood under, taking myself out of one genlock's range and making it harder for the other to hit me.

I heard a thump above me and looked up. Flat on his back... Someone got him already. When blood dripped on my cheek I hissed and stumbled back. It must have been Mahariel. I scrubbed my cheek with a wet hand and looked back to the other genlock. Missing. He must have been taken out too.

There was still the sound of clashing metal around me, though. The alpha wasn't going to go easily.

Of course, here I was, useless little me as usual. What was I even doing here? I was alive only by the skills of the people around me. I couldn't even wave this fancy staff and get fire when I was in danger. I should have take martial arts classes back when I had the opportunity.

Carefully, I left my safety under the wooden supports to watch as my group took down the roaring alpha hurlock. He was riddled with arrows, all in non-lethal areas, but it was enough to hamper him as Alistair dodged a wide swing and distracted the beast while the soldier plunged his sword into the alpha's exposed neck.

I approached them, flinching briefly as the alpha fell to the ground.

"Sorry. I'm not much use..." I mumbled while Mahariel crouched to retrieve any useable arrows.

"Just stay behind us and out of the way," Alistair said shortly. He was too worried and scared to be nice. I was past being offended by all the curt replies and shut my mouth.

We entered the tower and were greeted by nothing. The placed as ransacked, and past the entryway I could see the hasty defense the darkspawn had set up.

"A trap," Mahariel muttered, readying his bow. Alistair nodded and brought up his shield, the soldier doing the same. We mages just stood back and let them creep forward. Well, for a few steps. We heard a fwoosh of a sudden fire and the mage leapt forward, ice in his hands. Mahariel jumped over the thin wire, shouting a warning to the warriors as he sniped the archers.

It was hard to see the battle through the fire, but I wasn't going to try and get any closer. I stayed, safe and sound, in the entryway. This time, when the battle ended, they called me over. Predictably, the mage sneered at my uselessness, but he no longer commented. We had more serious shit to deal with than my awkward and pointless presence.

I felt kind of sorry for them, following them up the tower now. I was basically a sack of potatoes. They couldn't even throw me at the darkspawn, so maybe I was worse than that.

I was nearly sick as we passed by many dead soldiers that had been used to decorated the darkspawn victory over the tower, but I used my experience in animal dissections to get over it. Pretend it was a prop, ignore the smell. At least this smell didn't burn my nasal passages like the solution the cats and fetal pigs had been preserved in. 

We reached the second floor and took a breather. The room we rested in was set up in a disgusting ritualistic way, poles circled and topped with the heads of soldiers whose helmets were still on. The fire in the middle flickered, and I felt like it was taunting us for not being able to save these men. I snarled silently at it, but it only flared brighter.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair hissed, looking around the room, "What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"

They were close to the main camp too. If they were this close, what was stopping the ones that had slipped in here from sneaking all the way to the main camp as well? In fact, I wouldn't doubt that's what was happening right now.

"There's no use complaining about it," Mahariel muttered, "let's keep moving."

Just like that, I knew this was the moment Mahariel became the leader. Alistair didn't talk back, didn't make a face, just nodded and followed. Right then, Alistair had chosen to become idiot number two of the pack.

This floor went much the same as the first one had, save the up close and personal encounter I had with an ambushing hurlock. I screamed, it roared, and I shoved the end of my staff down its ugly throat. Alistair stabbed it in the back for me, and we went on our merry way.

The next floor I actually did something of worth and released a bunch of mabari on the ugly 'spawn asses. They even followed us to the rest of the floor, clearing out the darkspawn with us, before dutifully returning to their kennels.

I wanted to tell them to run, but they were loyal and it was unlikely they would survive long anyway. 

We, well, the others battled their way to the next flight of stairs. The last ones... Once we went up there who knew what would happen. 

A truly terrible scream echoed down the stairs to us and we went running up to our deaths. As soon as we saw the enormous ogre we stopped dead. It was just as ugly as any other darkspawn, but with the addition of strangely branch like horns.

The brute gulped down the silenced soldier, snarled at us for our interruption, and promptly lowered his head.

"Shit!" I screeched and abandoned them. I ran off to the side, still panting from my run on the stairs and now breathless with the knowledge of my impending brush with death. Thundering footsteps from the ogre ended with a ram into the wall, shaking the room.

Morbidly, I turned and wondered if anyone had died. I counted four people and breathed in relief, but it didn't last long. The ogre wasn't slow for his size, and now he was angry to not have battered any of us to death.

He roared again and stormed at us. Once more I fled, but my fellow mage wasn't so lucky. I heard his fearful scream, which was gruesomely cut off with a pained gurgle. But he wasn't eaten, no, the ogre was too busy dealing with the other three to enjoy his snack. Instead, I had the privilege of being tossed my dead companion.

His crushed body narrowly missed me and my eyes met his. They were bloody and bulging from their sockets. His upper body had been what was crushed, his lower jaw squished and forcing his face upward.

My whole body shook, and I felt nothing but an icy chill as my gorge rose. I fell to my knees and  _stared._

There was a numbness I felt that was entirely inappropriate for the situation. The corners of my vision swirled with white, the thudding of blood in my ears muted by sounds of cracking. The mage's corpse began to creep with blue.

Distant shouting of my name was slow to bring me back. I don't know how long I stared, but when I could feel my body again everything was frost. The disfigured, dead mage was frozen over. A huge shadow loomed over me. When I looked up I screamed and scrambled back, but the ogre wasn't bothering anyone anymore. He had not escaped my ice.

Our soldier friend had not been nearly as lucky to avoid the ogre's fate. Behind it he stood, watching me in terror as he tried to escape the ice that had clearly spread from me.

"No..."

Alistair looked at me tightly, but said nothing. It was Mahariel who pulled me up, dusted me off, and pressed my staff into my hands. The heat of it warmed me, and I clutched it to my chest. They ignored the tears that escaped despite my efforts.

"Make sure it's dead," Mahariel told Alistair. The man nodded, picking up his sword and shaking off the ice. I watched as he climbed the frozen ogre and shoved his sword through the ice into the base of the brute's skull. Black blood sluggishly spilled out and down to the floor. If it hadn't been dead before, it was dead now.

Alistair dropped down with a grunt and reminded us of our initial reason for being in the damn place. "It's late, we've probably missed the signal. We should light the fire now."

"I c-can try-"

Alistair didn't even let me finish. "No! ... No, we can take care of it."

I didn't blame him for his caution. I almost killed him and Mahariel because I couldn't handle the gruesome death of a comrade, however brief of an acquaintance he had been.

Mahariel took over lighting the fire after Alistair struggled and got it lit and smoking easily. It was a shame we didn't get to enjoy our little victory.

A contingent of darkspawn assaulted us from behind. None of us had a chance to do more than turn when they roared and a flurry of arrows were released on us.

I gasped, the air punched from my lungs as the arrows pierced my leather. Was that my gut? My shoulder flared with pain, and my mouth filled with a cry. My legs ceased to support me.

I fell over as the disgusting creatures approached to lord their triumph over our dying bodies. Distantly, I heard a loud, shaking bellow and a black figure swooped over us. 

I didn't care enough to remain awake and in pain to find out what happened next.

When I woke, it was to the smell of herbs. I shifted, the blanket covering me slightly coarse on my bare skin. Honestly, I was baffled to be alive, to be feeling anything at all. I lifted my head, tentatively pushing myself up. A twinge of pain flared in the shoulder I remembered had been shot. I didn't feel anything but fine about my abdomen.

Golden eyes peered at me curiously from by the fire. The face they were set in was pretty, soft in the cheeks, pointed in her eyes and chin. Her black hair was pulled into a distinctive bun, and her sensual lips curved as she spoke. 

"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased."

Morrigan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Oct. 3, 2015


	8. Chapter 8

"You, um... Where am I?"

I knew perfectly well where I was. But Morrigan was expecting an unknowing Warden, and that's what I'd play. I might be woozy and a hair's breadth from losing my mind, but I could not forget where I was.

"You are in the Wilds. I am Morrigan, I bandaged your wounds, what was left of them after mother's healing. You are welcome, by the way," Morrigan explained. "How does your memory fare? Do you remember mother's rescue?"

"I... Don't really... Well, I remember the arrows," I said, smiling sardonically. 

Morrigan snorted lightly, a brief chuckle. It made her sound a bit like a little girl. I don't remember her doing it often in the game, but if her persona is supposed to be a mysterious witch-woman, then I guess that would be why.

"Mother and I saved you and your friends, though it 'twas a close call. But what is important is that you all lived. The man who was to respond to your signal... Quit the field. Those he left behind were massacred. The darkspawn won the battle. Your friend, the blond one... He is not taking it well."

No, Alistair wouldn't. No matter how he was portrayed as a simple man, Alistair was anything but, and he wasn't stupid. He knew there were no survivors beyond those in Loghain's portion of the army.

I sighed heavily, rubbing my forehead. An ache was growing there, and it was likely not going to be the last. This entire thing was an enormous headache.

"Thank you for helping us. I suppose I should thank your mother too. Do you have any clothes I could, well... Have?" I couldn't borrow them, I wasn't likely to be coming back to return them.

"I... You are welcome," she murmured, stumbling over my unexpected gratitude. "I mended your shirt, but your brassiere was beyond saving. I would offer one of ours, but..." Morrigan looked me over, pointedly at my bare breasts. "They would not fit you."

Yeah, okay, got it, thanks. I crossed my arms deliberately beneath my breasts. "Okay, thanks for the offer. Can I have one anyway, please?" Even if it didn't fit well, I couldn't walk around without some kind of support. That was just asking for aches and pain.

The witch shrugged. "As you please. Here." She forked over a bra, probably her mother's, and I knew it wasn't going to fit. Morrigan was slender with average, if not slightly small, breasts. Their size was easy to see with the way she displayed them.

Meanwhile her mother, well... The cup size was almost there, but Flemeth was no doubt just as slender as her daughter. I had a broad chest, even without my big breasts. There was no way the band was going to fit.

I looked up at Morrigan to see her knowing smirk. Deflating, I passed it back without even bothering to try it on. We both knew it wasn't going to happen.

"Is there anything else I could use? I can't... It hurts without something." I said, flapping my hands pitifully at my boobs.

Morrigan, at least, was amused by my predicament. "There is some cloth that you might use to bind yourself," she said, retrieving what she spoke of. It wasn't rough fabric, thank god, but I knew it was going to be uncomfortable. I could only hope Lothering would have something for me.

Bless her, Morrigan wasn't as off-putting as she appeared in the game. She was kind enough to help me figure out the business of wrapping my beasts of burden and helped me with my shirt when my shoulder pained me. I discovered that, despite the healing Flemeth gave me, I was left with some impressive scars.

I finished dressing and took my staff, which was propped by the door. I don't know why they would have grabbed my staff in the middle of all that mess, but I wasn't going to question my luck.

I was quiet as I opened the door to the witches' hut, but I couldn't avoid catching the notice of everyone outside when the door swung wide.

"See? Your fellow warden lives," a wavering old voice announced, "you worry too much, young man."

I almost ducked my head, like a teen girl trying to avoid the gaze of an analytical grandmother. But Flemeth was no mere grandmother, and I wasn't going to be able to avoid her no matter what. I had thought Loghain was intimidating... Flemeth was even more so.

You couldn't tell that she was a threat. She looked like a very old woman, someone who could have once been beautiful, but age got her in the end. I had grown up being taught that old women were nothing to fear, and that you respected and helped your elders. But I knew her history and her ploy.

She was the most dangerous person I would likely ever meet, even if she wasn't the one who killed me in the end.

I gingerly walked down the steps toward this woman, and Alistair turned, approaching me quickly.

"You... You're alive!" He gasped, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. "I thought you were dead for sure." He looked like it might want to hug me, but was clearly holding back. I couldn't tell if he was just being careful of my injuries or if he was remembering what I had done in the tower. 

"Nope, I'm fine. Thank you for that, ma'am. I'm sure I would be dead if it weren't for you," I said, offering my gratitude to Flemeth. I wasn't about to pass by the chance to get in with her good graces.

Flemeth smirked, and I could see where Morrigan's expression came from. "I'm sure you would. You are welcome, young mage."

"This doesn't seem real..." Alistair mumbled, shaking his head. "If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd all be dead on that tower."

The old witch's smirk disappeared as she snapped, "do not speak about me as if I'm not present, lad."

Alistair was quick to back pedal, and I saw Mahariel stand from where he had been sitting, working over something. Leather?

"I'm sorry, this is all just surreal... We don't even know your name."

"Names are pretty, but useless. You may call me Flemeth."

"Flemeth... Y-You mean _the_ Flemeth? So Daveth was right, you are the Witch of the Wilds!" Alistair was so flabbergasted. It amused Flemeth enough that she started smirking again as she crossed her arms.

"And what does that mean?" She teased, "I know a bit of magic and it has served you all well, has it not?"

"If you are Flemeth, then you must be very old and powerful," Mahariel said, quiet and reverent. 

"And if I am? The two are not always connected, but this once you are right on both accounts."

Alistair recovered from his shock and it had become a righteous anger. "If you're so powerful, why did you not save Duncan?" He asked, voice unsteady with grief. He took a moment to calm himself and stated strongly, "he is- he was our leader."

Flemeth was not heartless, no matter her motivations. "I am sorry for your Duncan, and I understand your grief, but you must put it aside. Vengeance will come to you. Duty must be done first, however. It has always been the Grey Warden's duty to unite the land against a Blight. Or did that change while I wasn't looking?"

"Of course not!" Alistair exclaimed, affronted by the very idea. "But we _had_ been fighting the darkspawn! Why would Loghain betray us?"

"Ah, now that is a question. Men's heart's hold shadows darker than any tainted creature." She shrugged, golden eyes knowing.

"Perhaps he thought he could outmaneuver the darkspawn," she continued, "perhaps he did not see the true evil behind the threat."

"The archdemon." Alistair growled. 

"We need to contact the rest of the wardens. There's only three of us, what can just three people do?" I was trying to be sensible. Maybe if we waited for back-up we would have a better chance of coming out of this alive. After all, three (four, later, if I lived that long) wardens and whatever companions they dragged along was not the best way to fight a Blight. That was like sticking four bullets in a gun and hoping one of them hit a fly.

Alistair shook his head. "Cailan already summoned them, but Loghain has probably already taken steps prevent them from coming. We must assume they won't arrive in time."

Shit. I bit the skin of my thumb, chewing on it briefly before I pulled it away.

"Who else can help?" Mahariel pointed out. 

"We can go to Arl Eamon. Surely he would be able to help us," Alistair said eagerly. Such a puppy. Eamon would help us all right, but it wasn't going to be immediate. I was not looking forward to facing the undead forces raised in Redcliffe.

"Eamon? Who is this Arl?" Mahariel questioned, lifting his chin.

"Arl Eamon is the King's uncle and respected in the Landsmeet. He's a good, honorable man. We can go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help."

At least this planning was getting Alistair's head out of his grief, if only for now. 

"Loghain was an honorable man."

Mahariel, really?

Alistair tossed a dirty look at the elf. "Eamon would never do what the Teyrn did. But... I don't know that his help will be enough. He can't defeat the darkspawn by himself."

I sighed heavily. "Don't worry, Alistair. We'll find a way."

"You have more at your disposal than you think," Flemeth noted as she eyed me. Oh, no. If she knew about Loghain's betrayal, what else did she know? Probably enough to tell that I wasn't meant to be here at all. I was a huge wrench in her plots. For all she knew, I was going to fuck everything up. I couldn't afford the risk of catching the eye of someone like her, but I couldn't avoid it. I got it just by existing.

"The treaties! Of course, we can gather help from the dwarves, men, and elves. They're obligated to help us in a Blight." Alistair was fully on the train wagon now.

"I may be old, but dwarves, men, and elves... That sounds like an army to me."

Alistair nodded, eyes bright with excitement at the possibility that maybe, just maybe, we could do this impossible thing. "So, can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places... Build an army?" He asked, looking to Mahariel.

The elf looked a little off put by Alistair's can-do attitude, likely thinking on more realistic lines than the other warden was.

"It is... Possible." He agreed hesitantly.

"So you are set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" Flemeth inquired, a sly lilt to her words and on her lips.

"I'd be happy with just staying alive," I muttered. Flemeth snorted.

"Well, I can't do everything. But there is one last thing I can do..."

Just in time, Morrigan approached. She looked loftily at Alistair and said in a chill manner, "the stew is bubbling, mother. Are we to have guests for dinner or none?"

"The Grey Wardens are leaving, girl."

"Such a shame-"

"And you are to go with them."

"What?" She certainly hadn't been prepared for that. The squawk in her usually refined voice was evident to that.

Flemeth cackled in amusement. "You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears!"

As nice as Morrigan was, I wanted to at least give her a chance to back out. I knew Flemeth wouldn't let her, but if she had some semblance of someone on her side...

"If Morrigan doesn't want to come-"

"If you have no one to teach you your gifts, girl, you will kill the remaining Wardens in Ferelden with your own incompetence."

I flinched away from Flemeth's hard words. One moment a funny old lady, the next the harsh Witch of the Wilds. I was a threat to her investment, and she would see to it that I was contained. I was only one side-track of Morrigan's true mission, anyway.

"She also knows the Wilds and will be able to guide you past the horde to safety."

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan complained, hands curled.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance. As for you, wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

Mahariel bowed his head in acknowledgement of Flemeth's wishes. "Very well."

"Not to... Look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems?" Alistair said. "Outside of the Wilds, she's an apostate. And she's not exactly discreet."

"If you had not wanted help from illegal mages then you would have been left in that tower."

"... Point taken." Foot in mouth syndrome was strong with this one.

"Mother... I'm not even ready-"

"You have your magic. They are the last Wardens in Ferelden and they will need your power and guidance. This Blight could take us all, and no one is exempt from it. Not even me."

Morrigan deflated, her hands unfurling as she let out all her hot air. "I... Understand."

With her daughter in agreement Flemeth turned her attention back to us with the heat of a mother and a plotting woman. "And you, Wardens? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do it because you **must succeed**."

There was a reverb to her last words that made me tremble. It was as if I could feel the weight of what she said crawling over my skin. It was magic, and she used it so casually, infusing it in her voice.

Alistair was shivering, but Mahariel bore the bit of magic with grace and bowed his head once more. "She won't come to harm with us, Asha'bellanar."

There was silence, then Morrigan turned away. "Allow me to get my things," she mumbled and Flemeth followed her.

Was it then Morrigan had her role explained to her? 

"Asha'bellanar?" Alistair said in question to Mahariel's title for Flemeth.

"It is what my people call Flemeth. She is a very old woman."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Oct. 4, 2015


	9. Chapter 9

In a shorter time than I expected, Morrigan left the hut once more, Flemeth at her back. Whatever had been said in there was carefully hidden behind the blank mask of Morrigan's face as she spoke.

"I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far, and you will find much you need there. Or, if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide." That last bit was definitely a poke at Alistair, who was clearly still not on board with her accompanying us. "The choice is yours."

"If you're going to be part of this you're more than welcome to speak up whenever you want," I told her, subtly tilting my head back in Alistair's direction.

She caught it and her lips curled slightly.

Flemeth laughed, "you will regret saying that."

Her daughter sighed, mouth falling back into an expression neutral displeasure. "Dear, sweet mother, you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment." She grumbled with heavy sarcasm and a bit of venom.

"Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards."

Just how old was she, to count decades in such a careless tone?

"I just..." Alistair huffed. "Do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?"

Mahariel's eyes flickered to me as he answered vaguely, "we need all the help we can get."

Alistair followed his gaze, and that was enough to quiet him.

I guess there was nothing scarier than an untrained mage. I did kill someone and freeze an entire ogre just because I broke down. No more freak outs, I resolved yet again. Alistair and Mahariel had likely only survived due to Alistair's templar training.

"I'm so pleased to have your approval," Morrigan said dryly.

"Can we just go now? Or are we going to stay the night?" I snapped at the men.

"We should be underway." Mahariel agreed, as if I hadn't included him in my shortness.

"Farewell, mother," Morrigan said, trying her hardest to be casual about her good-bye. "Don't forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut."

"Bah. 'Tis far more likely you're return to find this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed by the Blight."

"I..." Morrigan wavered, the thought giving her pause and throwing her off. "All I meant was..." Despite the resentment she held for the mission Flemeth had detailed to her in the hut, the witch was still her mother.

Flemeth smiled gently and patted Morrigan's cheek. I had a suspicion she enjoyed upsetting her daughter's attempts at being aloof. "Yes, I know. Do try to have fun, dear."

Morrigan was silent, looking into her mother's eyes searchingly. Whether she found what she was looking for, I don't know. I turned away, shuffling over to Mahariel. "So, are we going to... To that village?" I muttered, crossing my arms against a breeze. I was careful to not say Lothering, but I very nearly did.

The elf shrugged and passed me the leather he had been working on. "We need supplies," he said simply, "and you need new armor. I couldn't remove the blood."

I took the leather cuirass and looked over the stains and holes. The armor was too stiff in places where there had clearly been blood. My blood... The evidence of my first wounds on Thedas.

"Thanks for trying. Should I...?" I motioned putting it back on, but he shook his head.

"No. Just be careful if anything happens."

He was expecting trouble, but who wouldn't be? We were surrounded by darkspawn and even if not them, bandits, animals, or just plain danger in general. They must think I was a trouble magnet. Hah, they'd learn it wasn't just me.

"Come, we must leave before the light sets. Unless you wish to travel by night?" Morrigan interjected.

"We have been resting enough. It would be wise to travel for as long as we can, regardless of the state of the day, or night as it may be."

I made a face, but Mahariel was right. We needed to get moving. I hoped they wouldn't mind me clinging to their arms at night, though. My night vision is dismal at best.

* * *

I. Hate. Walking. 

Walking to Ostagar had already been a tedious ordeal, but there had been plenty of stops to rest on account of Mahariel's and my illness. There were no such stops for resting now, not with the urgency to get out of the area. My legs were masses of over-used muscle, and I could tell I would be treated to terrible cramps when we finally laid down to sleep.

Alistair had long since stopped asking me if I was all right and everything was quiet save the sound of our moving and breathing. We had stopped a few hours ago, just before dawn, to rest and nap. I wasn't usually one to fall asleep easily, but that had been one of the few cases I was dead the moment I hit the ground.

Waking up, however, was just as hard as always. Mahariel had discovered in our earlier traveling that I was a husk of a human when I woke up. Alistair and Morrigan would learn the same soon.

There wasn't much chatter as we got on the road again. The recent events weren't exactly conducive to conversational topics. It didn't matter, I wasn't exactly in a talking mood either. The cold, which I liked under normal circumstances, wasn't any help.

I shivered in my meager clothing, silently willing the sun to get to its highest peak faster.

Faint barking reached my ears, and I knew I wasn't the only one who heard it when the rest of the party stopped.

"Did you-? A mabari!" Alistair exclaimed.

The big dog came galloping up to us, skidding to a stop before me. The warrior dog then turned on his heel and growled viciously, ears pinned to his head.

Shit! I forgot the dog had darkspawn on his tail when he joined up!

"Darkspawn!" Mahariel spat, readying his bow.

Our skins had been itching with the feeling of darkspawn since we had left, we couldn't have known the beasts were on us unless they were dropped on our faces. Like they were now.

An alpha hurlock roared behind his horned helm, and the group with him rushed forward.

Alistair shouted back, rushing into the fray. Behind him, Mahariel picked off any hurlocks unfortunate enough to get in his view.

Quick and silent, Morrigan conjured spikes of ice, and sent them whistling at the darkspawn. One stray bolt hit the alpha in the gut and Alistair took advantage of its stunned stumbling to behead it.

Next to him, the mabari was shaking the neck of a hurlock until it snapped. The battle was so quick, I hadn't even had the chance to duck behind a rock.

Proud of his accomplishment, the mabari trotted up to me covered in gore and plopped on his butt with a happy bark.

"Good puppy," I praised weakly. He barked again and rolled on his belly in the universal dog sign for belly rubs.

I sighed, but I never could deny dog bellies. I knelt and rubbed vigorously, scratching until I found the spot that made his leg kick.

"Good 'puppy'?" Alistair echoed, and Morrigan snorted behind him. "Is that what you call him?"

"What? No, I mean, he did kill a darkspawn. He did a good job, is all."

Mahariel cocked his head, eyes looking at the faint markings on the mabari's back. "He's the one you wanted the flowers for," he noted quietly.

I answered casually, "yeah. He looks better now. Yes, you're all better, big boy," I cooed. I knew this dog was just as smart as a regular human, they were made to be so, but he was still a dog. Sue me, so I baby coo at dogs.

"I guess he was looking for you, then, if you helped him," Alistair said. "He's... chosen you. Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting."

Morrigan scowled in absolute disgust. "Does that mean we're going to have this mangy beast following us about now? Wonderful."

"He's not mangy!" Alistair denied, taking on a hint of baby coo. Ha! I'm not the only one.

"Well..." I drawled. The mabari whined, looking up at me with betrayed eyes.

"No, I don't mean you're mangy! You're just kind of... Stinky. You could use a bath."

He gave a big doggy sigh of resignation.

"Enough. We should continue. If the dog wishes to remain, he may come with us," Mahariel said with an air of finality.

The mabari barked loudly, panting and grinning. I stood, and he hopped to his feet beside me. Looks like all had gone well. There was a mabari in the party, and he was mine.

The world wasn't suddenly great and bright, full of hope and goodness, but I felt like I could handle it- just a little better. I had a war hound at my side. This big boy was up to my waist and loyal unto death, whether I died or he did. Whatever happened, he and I, we were partners now. You can't tell me having that kind of partner wouldn't lift your spirits too.

* * *

Mahariel was warming up to the mabari, who I couldn't come up with a name for. He flushed out a few birds, just bounding around, two of which Mahariel shot down, and came trotting back with them in his mouth, proud as you please.

He found a rabbit too, but that one ended up being his meal. Alistair was put out, but I couldn't bring myself to scold the hound. He killed it, so it was only fair he got to choose what to do with it.

It was only a few days to Lothering, but I learned several things. I learned to start a fire without magic, I learned how to pluck birds and skin rabbits (hooray for life skills I never wanted to have), and I learned that Mahariel is impervious to begging, pleading, or wheedling of any sort.

We barely took breaks, save to sleep, and my feet ached with blisters. Each night Morrigan silently handed me salve that smelled faintly of herbs. She had told me it was for soothing irritations before hiding away in her tent. I took it gratefully and used it nightly on my feet. It was no cure, but my blisters were slowly easing.

Nights were warmer with my new friend. My hound curled around me, sometimes even let me use him as a pillow if I was still enough. I wasn't used to such a big animal sleeping so close, but he was more than welcome. Truthfully, I thought of him as mine, but I think it was more that I was his. 

I would have been worried about Morrigan's lack of teaching, but the prickling reminder of the darkspawn was more important. Once we were free of the Wilds I'm sure my lessons would begin. 

As we moved closer to Lothering and further from the horde, the prickling faded and stopped. That afternoon we came across the bridge to the quaint village by the river, guarded by "toll collectors."

They were looting dead bodies of those less fortunate that had tried to oppose them. A guy on watch spotted us and elbowed another man in leather armor that looked a little big for him. 

I made a face, backing behind Alistair with the mabari. The dog sensed my apprehension and began growling as the head honcho of the operation approached.

"Wake up, gentlemen!" He said, grinning like a salesman, "More travelers to attend to. Led by an elf, of all things." He sneered nastily in Mahariel's direction, but Mahariel didn't react. With stoic boredom, he stared back at the man.

A bigger bandit, possibly smarter too, was a little less confident than his leader. "Err... They don't look much like them others, you know," he whispered, loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Uh... Maybe we should just let these ones pass..."

The leader laughed. "Nonsense! Greetings, travelers!"

He leered at Morrigan in particular, but I wasn't sure if she even cared.

"Highwaymen," Alistair murmured to me, as if I needed explaining, "preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose."

"They are fools," Morrigan responded, crossing her arms loftily. "I say teach them a lesson."

The leader clearly didn't take her seriously. She was a slender waif of a woman, what could she do to him?

"Now, is that any way to treat someone?" He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "A simple ten silvers, and you're free to move on."

"How about you fuck off?" I suggested. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to say. Alistair thought so too as he quickly grabbed me, pressing a gloved hand over my mouth. 

"We don't have that kind of coin, ser, sorry." Alistair smiled anxiously, oblivious to my attempts to bite his palm.

"Ah! And if I don't believe you?" The bandit said, eyeing Alistair's armor. It was much nicer than anything they had probably seen. Most Ostagar soldiers had already passed through and any others were likely dead or deserters who certainly wouldn't have the Grey Warden standard armor that Alistair wore or the exotic Dalish leathers Mahariel had on.

Mahariel had heard enough. "I kill you," he stated. "Problem solved."

The leader sighed, rolling his eyes as he withdrew his sword. "Well, this is going nowhere. Let's finish this, gents!"

Alistair was quick to push me behind him, pulling his sword out just in time to block a nimble bandit. The mabari helped by going for the man's leg with a snarl.

An arrow whizzed pass, ricocheting off a stone column. I yelped, rushing behind a large box. "Puppy, go for the guy with the arrows!"

I heard a whoosh of Morrigan's fire and desperately wished I could do that too. Maybe I started out wanting this power gone, but I had no other way to defend myself. Once we were done in Lothering I was _demanding_ lessons.

"All right, we surrender!" The leader shouted. I peered from behind the box. More than half his men were dead or severely wounded. He had definitely not accounted for Morrigan's magic. Puppy trotted up to me where I hid, a quiver of arrows and the belt it had been attached to in his mouth.

"That's not what I meant, but thanks," I whispered shakily, taking them. Maybe Mahariel would have use for them.

"We-we-we're just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all!"

"Like hell you are!" I snapped, pushing myself from my hiding spot. "These people are dead! You didn't need to kill them, you're just a greedy, piece-of-shit criminal! Now your men are dead too!"

Exasperated that things weren't going his way, the bandit heaved a sigh. "Yes, I'm a criminal; I admit it. I apologize," he said, trying placate me with his oily salesman tone.

"You're not sorry for anything, you shit bag," I hissed, Puppy barking fierce agreement beside me. My voice thickened, almost breaking. "You should die before you kill anyone else."

I had never wished death on anyone before. I had never even hurt another person with the intention to cause harm. I was not sadistic. All the darkspawn I had seen killed in front of me were not human enough for me to care about their deaths. All the men who had been killed were, as gruesome as it sounds, not whole enough for me to register them as human. 

But here, all around me, there were people. Clear as day, people who had been alive in the last twenty-four hours and now were not. I was just a normal woman, and, as a normal woman, I felt the intense urge to kill this man before me for being the prime cause of death to all these people.

Mahariel killed him for me.

As the bandit gathered himself, face twisting with anger and desperation, Mahariel put an end to him with a single quick arrow. As he fell the rest of the bandits looked at us and dropped their weapons. 

As they dispersed, we made our way down to Lothering.

Then there were seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Oct. 8, 2015


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait. I've been struggling with some depression and wanting to skip ahead to more exciting chapters. I refuse to do that, but it makes it hard to want to write current chapters.
> 
> I would like to thank the wonderful guest who left me that kind review. I think I really needed it and I'm glad you told me those things. I hope the rest of the story lives up to your expectations.

We headed off the bridge, away from the ruined wagons and pilfered goods. Mahariel had rooted around, gathering coins to put in his pocket, much to Alistair's disapproval. 

"Well, there it is. Lothering. Pretty as a painting," Alistair said, voice high with sarcasm.

Of course, Morrigan just had to respond. "Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?"

Okay, I was out. I'm not taking any part in their fights. I ducked to the side, slinking away with Puppy at my side. Mahariel kept his eyes firmly forward, foot tapping absently with impatience.

"Is my being upset so hard to understand?" Alistair demanded, glaring at the witch. "Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?"

She scoffed. "Before or after I stopped laughing?"

I knew she was aware her mother was nigh immortal, but didn't yet know how. Truly, it was laughable to think Flemeth would die.

"Right, very creepy. Forget I asked," he muttered, looking away.

"You have been sort of quiet, though, Alistair," I pointed out, trying to distract them while there was a break in the banter.

He sighed. "Yes, I know, I was just... Thinking."

"No wonder it took so long then," Morrigan snarked, crossing her arms.

I gave her a flat look, and she smirked back at me.

Alistair crossed his arms. "Oh, I get it. This is the part where we're shocked to discover you've never had a friend in your entire life."

"I can be friendly when I desire to," Morrigan countered, lofty suggestion in her voice. "Alas, the desire to be more intelligent does not make one so."

"Anyway!" I shouted, "we should go get supplies. Yeah? Yeah. Supplies, let's go."

"Hold on, we should talk about where we intend to go first," Alistair stopped me, grabbing my shoulder.

"Um, into town, where the supplies are?"

"Yes," he stressed with exasperation. "But we need to decide what the general plan is afterward. I think what Flemeth said is a good idea." He turned to Mahariel, who shifted. "Those treaties... Have you looked at them?"

Mahariel nodded. Sneaky bastard, I never noticed. You would think the crinkling of old paper would be loud. Well, parchment, I guess.

"Well, then you know there are three main groups for the treaties."

"No, I don't," Mahariel answered.

"Right- What?"

I was a little baffled too. Why would Mahariel... Oh! That's right, could he read? I doubt anyone but the Keeper and the Keeper's apprentice would learn to read.

"Can you read?" I asked bluntly, just to be sure. 

The elf shook his head. "There was little need to learn."

"Um... Well... There are the dwarves of Orzammar, the Circle of Magi, and the Dalish elves. I still think Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might even want to go to him first."

Mahariel cocked his head, brows furrowed as he looked at Alistair in question.

"You are the senior warden, why are you leaving the decisions to me?"

Alistair was caught off guard by the question, blinking his doe brown eyes at the elf. He never did have a chance to make his own life decisions, he was used to being led around and told what to do.

"Well, I don't know where we should go! I'll do whatever you decide."

"Well, in Alistair's defense," I piped up, "Arl Eamon is rather close and, well, he's an Arl. Even if he can't help right away or whatever he could at least help fund us if we can convince him to. We're not exactly in the lap of luxury here and we really need supplies. Especially if we're going after these treaties." I darted a pointed look at Alistair.

That put a considering look on Mahariel's face. "... All right. Alistair, come with me. We'll look for news. Elizabeth, stay with Morrigan, and look for supplies."

Morrigan and I deliberately did not make eye contact as we watched the boys march off into town.

"Do you know the value of food and clothes around here?" I asked, taking note of the refugee tents circling the small village.

The witch scoffed.

I sighed. "Yeah... Bet you they're at least twice what they would have been before this."

We followed the path, Puppy trotting lazily beside me with a lolling tongue. I tried not to act too skittish as we passed a templar on the way in, copying Morrigan's air of nonchalance. I couldn't tell if the templar watched us from under his helmet, but I certainly felt as if eyes were on me.

The village was packed. It was too small an area to hold so many people, and every one of them looked ragged with desperation. If I were a better person I might have tried to tell them to just keep moving.

A tap on my shoulder drew my attention and Morrigan cocked her head in the direction of a merchant's cart. It was half packed, and the merchant was arguing with a chantry sister. Or, rather, she was arguing with him.

I really didn't want to get involved, but Morrigan stepped closer. The merchant saw her and latched on.

"Ho there! You! You look able!" More like a Chasind witch, like Daveth once feared, and a Mabari hound at her side. "Care to make some profit helping a beleaguered business man?"

Sleazy salesman.

Morrigan didn't even need time for calculation. "If your profit is considerable enough."

"Aha!" The man was delighted. "I'm not the only one with some business sense."

The sister puffed up, outraged. Even her chin mole quivered. "He is charging outlandish prices for things people desperately need! Their blood is filling his pockets!"

Okay, that was a little dramatic. I shifted on my feet, scritching Puppy's ear as I waited for the transaction to complete.

"'Tis only survival of the fittest," Morrigan responded, matter-of-fact. "All these cretins would have done the same in his shoes, given the chance."

"I have limited supplies. The people decide how much the supplies are worth to them," the merchant chimed, smiling in triumph.

I sighed in annoyance. "Yeah, okay. Look, ma'am, he's a merchant. If you think you can appeal to his better nature, then you're under the assumption he has one, which was your first mistake. You, whoever you are," I waved my hand at the merchant. "What will you give us if we scare the sister off?"

"100 silver." He answered, lips curling in further satisfaction.

"And a discount."

"And a discount," he agreed, "but just for you and your companion."

"Great. Now, ma'am, if you would be on your way?" I smiled sweetly and cocked my head. "You'd do better telling people to stop camping on your doorstep when there's a hoard of darkspawn heading right for your lovely village."

The sister paled in her rage briefly before she gathered up all her puffiness again and stormed back to the chantry.

I turned back to the merchant, and he was depositing a nice pouch of silver into Morrigan's hand. "You're a snake-y bastard, you know that."

The merchant only eyed me smugly. "Your companion has the right of it. Survival of the fittest. Now, what will you be purchasing today?"

I didn't like him, but he was a hell of a businessman and had every right to his smugness. Got us to run that lady off and now we were going to buy things from him with the very coin he'd paid us with.

"We have other people to meet up with first. Don't go anywhere, we'll be back soon," I told him.

Morrigan followed my quick pace, peering down at me. "Can you not purchase our supplies yourself?"

"I need Mahariel to help me get proper leather armor fitted and I don't know the value of what we have. Alistair might." Or Leliana, if they've met her yet. The tavern would be the first place they would go for news.

It was easy enough to find. A crowd of people were milling about outside, faintly afraid. Alistair and Mahariel were just exiting, a red-headed woman behind them. Three guesses as to who that was, and the first two don't count.

Leliana was a beautiful woman. I could tell she was curvaceous under those unflattering chantry robes, and her face was deceptively sweet, but it was her hair that most caught my eye.

My mother was a red-head. Orange, really, but it was near the exact same shade as Leliana's. The Orlesian woman's hair had more dark tones than light, but it was similar enough that my heart ached painfully. My throat closed a little, and I blinked rapidly to keep moisture at bay.

"Hey," I croaked. "There's a merchant we got a discount off of and 100 silver. I-I don't really know how to barter. You?"

"Ah, well..." Alistair made a helpless face, and Mahariel just shook his head.

"Perhaps I may help?" Leliana offered, stepping forward with a charming smile. "What is it you need?" Her accent was thick enough that I almost couldn't understand her. 

My eye caught a small splash of red. There was blood on her robes. I glanced at Alistair and Mahariel. They were clean. I guess the tussle with Loghain's men hadn't ended in death.

"We need food and clothes." My voice was still croaky, and now it was meek too. I stepped back to put some distance between us.

"This is Leliana," Alistair introduced us, late. "Theron thought we could use a violent lay sister on a journey for the Maker." He rolled his eyes, making clear just what he thought of that in case we didn't catch his sarcasm.

"Okay. Hi," I offered, stepping back further. "Can we... Let's just get the stuff and leave. I don't like it here."

I ignored the strange looks from the guys and led them back to the merchant. In short time we had a stash of travel food (which sadly didn't include bread), a leather armor set that fit me better than the last one did, a few daggers, but no good undergarments. We had shirts, trousers, even practical panties, but zero bras. I was beyond tired of the soreness these wraps were causing me.

We paid for the things, leaving us about thirty silver left. Leliana had bartered like a demon with that charm of hers. The merchant probably would have gotten all his silver back if it wasn't for her.

I felt bad for the people here. People I knew we could possibly help, but didn't really want to deal with. A boy, crying for his mother who wouldn't come back. A young woman, asking for traps. The innkeeper who wanted poison, an old woman overseeing refugees that wanted health poultices. I wasn't going to go out of our way, though. We needed to stop this Blight. Doing every little thing to help every single poor soul along the way wasn't going to do any good. We're Grey Wardens, not folk heroes.

A deep, rumbling voice speaking a foreign tongue stopped us. Or, at least, it stopped me. The voice was familiar. It was Qunari. _Sten._

We could see his huge body from around the back gate of the village. He was nothing like he was in the video game. In the first game they hadn't used the same concept for the Qunari as the second game. He had looked more human, less grey skinned and short enough to look like a tall man. Sten in reality was nothing like that.

Compared to the darkspawn, though, he was nearly eye candy. Enormous, over seven feet tall, easy, and broad. Still hornless, though. I guess some Qunari just didn't have horns.

His hair was the same, thick, white cornrows, but he had fading red paint across his bare chest. He was the most alien character I had met since this mess began. The only thing familiar about him was that deep voice. Somehow, this was a relief.

I approached the cage where the others hung back, even Mahariel. They had intended to just walk by.

Sten lifted his head and looked down as I stood before him, the smallest of the group.

"You are not one of my captors. I have nothing to say that would amuse you, female. Leave me in peace."

Puppy huffed behind me and nudged the back of my thigh.

"You're a prisoner. You've done something bad or people are racist. But I think it's bad, because I bet you could totally break out of this if you wanted. The bars are old and rusty. Big, strong Qunari, these are nothing. What did you do?"

Sten didn't answer, but Leliana did.

"The revered mother said he slaughtered an entire family. Even the children." Her voice was hushed.

"It is as she says," Sten confirmed.

"All right. Who are you?"

"I am Sten of the Beresaad- the vanguard- of the Qunari peoples."

I tilted my head, leaning back as I looked him full in the eyes. They were dark, hooded by his heavy brows and I couldn't tell the color of his iris.

"Do you want to redeem yourself?"

Sten stood straighter, tightening his jaw. "Death will be my atonement."

"Defeating the Blight is better atonement than death."

"Elizabeth-"

"Shut up, Alistair." 

Sten looked us over, eyes shifting from person to person, before they returned to me.

"The Blight... You are Grey Wardens."

"Yeah, three of us."

He rumbled deep in his throat. "Surprising. My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill... Though I suppose not every legend is true."

I grinned. "We can't all be as big and strong as you. So, if we get you out, will you join us?"

If Sten was any less stoic than he was, he probably would have sighed in exasperation at me. "If you free me, I will join you."

"Great! See you in a few."

The instant we were back in the village, out of Sten's hearing, Alistair blew up.

"Are you insane? You heard the sister! He slaughtered an entire family!"

At least he had the sense to whisper-shout.

"I'm sure he had a good reason."

"A good- He killed kids! When is that ever good?"

Oh, you're going to find out soon.

I shrugged. "Sometimes it is. Clearly you've never had younger siblings."

"I-! Theron, you can't be all right with this," he appealed to our de facto leader.

The elf shrugged. "He is a Qunari. I have heard his people are strong warriors."

With a frustrated noise, Alistair threw up his hands. "Don't come running to me when he kills us all in our sleep."

Drama-prince.

Leliana was eager to lead us in. After all, she hadn't stopped by early to get her things or to say good-bye to whoever was there she might have befriended. I wonder if she had intended to leave with nothing, saying nothing.

"Ah, wait." Alistair stopped us. "I think I recognize someone." His distracted gaze was on a praying man in armor, but not a templar. "Go talk to the revered mother without me, I need to talk to him."

Mahariel nodded. "If you're not done when we are we shall wait outside the chantry for you."

Alistair bobbed his head in agreement, walking away.

As we approached the revered mother she looked up from her reading, sitting in a plain chair wearing robes not much more decorated than Leliana's. I would have mistaken her for a regular sister.

"Good day, sister Leliana," she greeted, setting her book aside. "I'm surprised to see you still in Lothering."

"It is good to see you as well, your Reverence," Leliana responded, smiling gently and, perhaps, a little sadly.

The mother glanced around her at us. "I do not recognize your companions. Greetings. Will you be making a donation to the chantry? Our need has never been greater."

I saw Mahariel twitch and a sneer cross Morrigan's face.

I guess I was going to be the people-person of the group. Joy.

"I'm sorry, but we have nothing to offer," I declined.

The revered mother nodded in unsurprised acceptance. "I understand. Not all are wealthy enough to spare even a few coins for the Maker's favor. What can I do for you, then?"

"Ma'am, there is a Qunari outside the village we would like released into our custody. We are Grey Wardens, you see, and right now we need people like him."

She sighed, standing to pace. "Then his next victims might count you and me as their murderers. What do you say of this, Leliana? You know your friends better than I."

Leliana's face was conflicted.

"These are... Unusual times, your Reverence. With us, the Qunari might do some good." Her words grew stronger as she grew more certain of her decision. "I'm sure of it, in fact."

Again, the mother sighed, but she was already pulling open a drawer to retrieve a key. "Were things not so desperate..." She dropped the key in Leliana's hand. "Take this key to his cage, and may the Maker watch over you."

Leliana clutched the key. "Thank you, your Reverence. Your trust is not misplaced."

If I didn't know what Leliana truly was I would think she was naive.

We passed Alistair as we left, but he said a quick good-bye to his friend and followed us out in silence. Halfway through the village he broke his quiet.

"We need to get to Redcliffe. Arl Eamon is gravely ill without cure. His knights have been sent out to look for something to help, but none have returned with aid. Ser Donall said the Arlessa would know more."

"Then we'll go," Mahariel answered. "Our business here is complete."

Leliana was the one to set Sten free, silent as she did so.

Sten did not move, even with the cage open. "... I confess, I did not think the priestess would part with the key."

"She agreed to release you into our custody," I informed him.

Sten bowed his head briefly. "So be it. I will follow you against the Blight. In doing so, I shall find my atonement."

We turned away, headed to the other side of the bridge to continue onward. 

We rounded a small hill just past the village and five men emerged from the nearby bushes to block our way. The whole lot looked guilty as sin, but determined.

"We done heard what was said," the least guilty looking one announced. "You're a Warden. I don't know if you killed King Cailan and, Maker forgive me, I don't care."

"Wait, sir-"

He interrupted me as if I hadn't even spoken. "But that bounty on your head could feed a lot of hungry bellies. Attack!"

The men launched forward and, from behind us, Puppy snarled with fury as five more ambushed our backs.

I screamed and burst into flames.

"Shit!" Alistair cursed and I could feel an exertion of numbness over my body. I felt like a thoroughly doused torch. I had never felt Alistair use his templar training before, but... I hoped he never used it against me again.

It was a surreal feeling, as if I was floating within my own body, just barely in control. If pressed, I could move my limbs, but not well.

I collapsed like a rag doll, and that saved my neck as a sword whistled over my head. Puppy barked ferociously and lunged at the man who would have killed me. I felt warm liquid hit my face and lifted a trembling hand to my face to wipe it away.

The men, for all their determination, were not nearly as trained as our little group. They were all killed. Not even a chance to run away when they realized their mistake.

Sten glared at Morrigan and me and spat. "Bas saarebas."

Foreign dangerous things. I just hoped Sten wouldn't leave after the revelation.

The numb feeling was leaving, but my body still tingled. Like...

"Darkspawn," I muttered, pushing myself up as my strength returned.

Mahariel's eyes narrowed, then he cocked his head as if listening. "Darkspawn," he agreed, twisting to look. On the bridge was a group, advancing on a merchant's cart.

"Go, before they die," I said, flopping my hand in the general direction. Alistair's lips tightened and he gave me a look. We were clearly talking later.

Sten followed after Mahariel and Alistair. Leliana deliberated a moment, but made her decision as she ran after them as well. Even Puppy left.

Only Morrigan remained. She looked me over purposefully and I followed her eyes.

"Aw, what the hell," I groaned. My clothes were scorched. It was a good idea to have bought extras.

"Mother was quite serious when she said you were in need of training," Morrigan murmured, taking off her pack. She passed me the new clothing, and I didn't care enough to find privacy to change.

"You think she would have joked about that?" I asked, stripping.

"You are my age, perhaps even a year or two older. You should have at least a modicum of control of yourself."

I snorted. "I haven't even had this magic for a month. I can barely even feel it most of the time."

She was quiet as I tied my trousers.

"For one with so little control, you have such power. I am fully trained, yet even I have not the talent to set myself aflame."

I glared at her and tucked my shirt in. "Ha ha."

She smirked. "Well, I suppose we shall begin your training this night. It would not do to burn more clothing and have you travel nude."

"Everyone thinks they're so funny," I grumbled, marching off. Morrigan chuckled behind me and Puppy came running up, barking excitedly.

"What, did you get the darkspawn, Puppy? Yes, yes, you did!" I cooed, slapping my thighs. He barked, flopping his big paws down and wiggling his butt in the air in classic playful dog language.

I laughed and chased after him up the stairs. Alistair waited grumpily, surrounded by 'spawn corpses and two grateful dwarves.

"Is that your hound, good lady?" The stout dwarf asked in good cheer. Good old Bodahn Feddic.

"Yes, sir," I answered, rubbing Puppy's back.

"Well, my thanks. He helped saved me and my son's life. I wouldn't have minded joining you and your friends on your path, but I've been informed you're Grey Wardens. My son does like dogs, but I'm afraid good dogs aren't enough incentive for all the excitement that'll be following you."

I smiled, easily charmed by Bodahn's good manner and practicality. "No problem. I'm glad he likes Puppy. I hope we'll see you around."

"Me too, good lady. Say good-bye, Sandal."

The blond dwarf waved mechanically. "Good-bye."

I waved back as Mahariel called my name. No big deal, we would be seeing more of them soon. For now, back on the road again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Oct. 10, 2015


	11. Chapter 11

We weren't that far from the village when Alistair shuffled me to the back of the group while we walked, far enough away that he felt comfortable to talk to me. If he was thinking the others were out of earshot, he was wrong.

"You need to get training," he hissed, right from the start. Okay, if we're going to get our feelings out...

"Yeah," I cut him off, "and I will. Morrigan is going to start my training tonight. Soon I'll be slaying darkspawn and lighting fires with flint like the rest of you."

He scowled at me. "All right, you won't mind me supervising, will you? That's how they do it when mages train. Properly. At a Circle."

That's how it was going to be, huh?

I scowled right back, my lip curling. "Oh, really? And I guess you'd know all about that, would you? Mister big, bad templar, saving the poor mages from themselves."

"Only when they try to kill me, more than once, by complete accident," Alistair shot back.

"One time! I set myself on fire this time, not you!" This would be the second time I set myself on fire, actually. Was that going to be a thing? I'd rather it not.

"It could have spread!"

"Please, there is no need to fight." Leliana stopped us, stepping up as a mediator. She smiled sweetly, disarming us with peacefully raised palms. "I have heard there are many dangers of training mages. Templars are only there to make sure that people are kept safe. Alistair would not disrupt your training, I'm sure."

She turned her pretty doe eyes on the tall warden.

He swallowed visibly and looked away. "No, of course not..."

I snorted and crossed my arms. "Whatever." I growled, stalking forward to walk behind Mahariel. He didn't talk and wasn't trying to say I was an unstable mage. Even if I was.

* * *

We finally stopped for the night. I was pulled away before Mahariel could grab me for animal gutting duty. I was getting kind of good at it.

"Come with me," Morrigan commanded, with a high lift of her brow. "We shall begin while the fool cooks."

Alistair, still in a bad mood, shot her a nasty look. I ignored him and followed her. Puppy whined unhappily as I left, but knew better than to follow.

Morrigan's tent was not the strange lean-to I remembered from the game. I had noticed that the first night. But she always kept it wide open, facing the rest of us, and a fair bit away. She didn't always have a fire going in front of it either. Tonight she did.

"Sit down," she told me, settling down herself. "I've seen you meditating every night since Ostagar. You found someone to tell you the basics, but that is how you teach a child. You are no child. Tell me, how does it work for you?"

"Well, I just search for my magic. It's been getting easier to find it, I guess," I shrugged.

Morrigan's brows furrowed. "'You guess', do you?" She huffed in disapproval. "When you find your magic, what do you do?"

"Uh... I don't really know, I just do it over again. I was never told what to do after that."

"I daresay you are ready to move on. You do not have the time to loiter." She waved a dismissive hand. "Now, meditate. Find your magic, and do not let go of it. Hold it. Tell me when you have done so."

I nodded and closed my eyes. The trance was easier to get into. I had grown so used to trying to call it up. The familiarity of doing this nightly made my task faster.

When I found it, I grabbed hold. It was a bit like attempting to balance a slick object in your hands, tilting to and fro. I furrowed my brows in concentration and kept my eyes closed.

"I have it. Now what?" My voice was strained. It was the longest I had consciously held on to the well of power inside me. It was as if my body had been numb this entire time, and I was only just realizing it now that I was warming up.

"Good. Open your eyes," Morrigan coaxed.

I did so cautiously. My control wavered as distraction came with my field of vision, but I managed to keep balanced.

Morrigan remained silent as she judged me.

"Your control is thin. It will get better. Now, pool your mana into your hand. Just one hand. Hold your palm out." She showed me, holding her own palm out skyward as an example.

Her hand started to glow faintly, converging in the center. It built, then floated upward in a luminous sphere.

"I do not expect you to do this, but, when properly done, your magic will manifest itself in your palm or where ever you wish it. Go slowly," she cautioned.

Right, slowly.

From the moment she had told me to pool my magic, it had begun sliding toward my hand in increasingly larger trickles. I jerked my palm up nervously as the trickles turned into a river. I tried to stymie it, but it only felt like I was damming it with pebbles. 

The dam only lasted so long before it burst.

I let out a scream as a bolt of lightning shot from my palm into the sky, the power of it pushing me flat on my back.

Morrigan yelped as well, and I heard heavy footsteps rushing toward us.

"Do I need to-"

"Get back, you oaf! We are making progress!" Morrigan snapped at Alistair. 

I groaned on the ground, my hand twitching. I could feel the flickers of electricity still jolting around. Why couldn't I be learning something nicer, something tame and useful like healing?

"Don't- Don't touch me yet," I coughed, trying to push myself up. Morrigan ignored me and grabbed my shoulder, dragging me upright.

"What happened?" She demanded.

"Too much, too fast. It wouldn't- I couldn't make it stop." I shook my head, looking down at my hand. Little sparks flashed, but it was fading now that I wasn't holding it anymore.

Morrigan sat down, eyeing me in speculation.

"Your control is worse than I thought... Can you feel your magic outside of meditation?" She questioned.

"No."

"You should be able to. You are denying your magic. It is part of you; it cannot be denied. It is as the blood beneath your skin. Stop blocking it."

That sounded like some weird magical clot.

"But I'm not doing it consciously!" I protested. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"When you meditate, never let your magic go once you find it. It is more unnatural for you to continue to release it than it is for you to hold it close."

Maybe that was the problem. Right now, it _was_ unnatural to me. It was something my body never had before, and suddenly I had a new circulatory system of magic. It was an invader. And if my body couldn't fight this invader, it was going to block it out. 

I sighed in frustration at myself. "Okay. Are we done?"

Morrigan's golden eyes flashed. "For now. Go meditate."

I left to sit back by the main campfire. Leliana was preparing the food and it smelled good for a change.

I rolled out my tarp and opened my bedroll over it. The night seemed warm enough for sleeping under the stars. 

Though I tried to keep my eyes open and meditate, they slowly fluttered shut and I was out.

* * *

Acid green flashed across a film of darkness. It lit up the surroundings in a sickly wash. Tattered wings, mottled purple and spiked, bracketed a spiny body. Claws, overgrown and cracked, dug into an aging bridge. A roar sounded over a tireless hoard of darkspawn. They looked as a tide of ants did when you stirred their mound.

Another roar sounded, muted. The noise was thick and slow, moving through layers to reach my ears.

I trembled like the prey I was as the Archdemon glared at me from his perch. His face drew closer and closer. I could feel the sharpness of his teeth as they pressed around me, and a rumbling voice spoke to me in words I didn't understand.

I woke, gasping.

I lay clutching my bedroll beneath me, wet with exertion. Even my hair felt damp with sweat. Gross. 

"Bad dreams, huh?"

My head nearly snapped as it whipped toward Alistair direction. Behind him, Mahariel was stirring as well.

"Y-Yeah. You too?" I asked the elf, sitting.

Mahariel glanced at me in silence, eyes knowing.

"It was the Archdemon, wasn't it." 

He nodded. Mahariel looked to Alistair. "Was it... Real?" He asked.

"It is, sort of," the "senior" warden confirmed. "Part of being a Grey Warden is hearing the darkspawn. That's what your dream was. Hearing them. The Archdemon... It 'talks' to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That's how we know this is really a Blight."

"Why did Duncan not tell everyone so?" Mahariel questioned, cocking his head.

"He _did,_ " Alistair said, exasperated. "He said he felt the Archdemon's presence. Everyone just assumed he was guessing."

That's true. Since the beginning Duncan had said that. But everyone wrote it off. He was a Warden, after all; that's what he was supposed to say. "Be wary of the Archdemon" and all. No one thought he was actually serious. No one except the other Wardens. All three of us.

Alistair shook his head. "It takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out. Some of the older Wardens say they can understand the Archdemon a bit, but I sure can't." He shrugged as if he could care less.

"Anyhow, I heard you two thrashing about, and I thought I should tell you. It was scary at first for me, too."

"Thanks," I murmured.

Alistair took the olive branch, small as it was. "Not a problem," he answered, just as quiet. We let the early morning fill the silence before Alistair cleared his throat.

"Anyhow, you're up now, right? Let's pull up camp and get a move on."

He stood up and started hustling things about, but I certainly wasn't ready. I could barely see the light of the sun coming up. 

"Hey, whoa, can we have breakfast first or something? We bought soap, right? Can I go down to the stream and rinse off? I feel gross, and I haven't bathed in forever." I seriously reeked and felt like my skin was covered in a film of grime.

Alistair made a face, but he pointed to Leliana, who was crawling from her tent and yawning. 

"She's got the soap. Ask her, and make it quick."

"Sir, yes sir," I grumbled and pushed myself up. "Hey, Leliana, can I have some soap?"

"Oh, are you going to the stream? So early... Would you mind if I joined you?" She asked brightly as she dug around her pack. It figured Leliana would be the one person who was actually lucid enough for real conversation in the morning. 

"Yeah, sure. Does it work on hair?" I asked, pulling a change of clothes from my pack.

"I have something for that; there is no need to use this rough thing for your pretty hair." Leliana assured me, pulling out a vial.

"Okay...?" Pretty hair? It was just- Oh. Blond, bleached blond. Such a pale shade for hair was rare in natural coloration. I didn't correct her. How could I explain it? 

I followed her down to the nearby stream, where the water was sure to be frigid. What a way to greet the day. 

As we undressed, I turned my back to Leliana to give her privacy out of habit. I folded my old clothes away and carefully toed my way into the water. Not quite frigid, but still cold enough to set me shivering. 

I turned to Leliana and stopped short.

I felt so outclassed by the beauty that is naked Leliana. Her chantry robes do her no justice. Before she could catch me, I pulled my roving eyes away and cleared my throat. "The soap?" 

She smiled and passed it over before she knelt in the water. "Shall we wash our hair tonight? That is, if we find another stream where we camp. Wet hair while walking is no good."

Right. I touched my hair unhappily, feeling the oily strands. "Yeah... Maybe I should cut it short like yours." It would be much more manageable, at the least. 

"Oh no!" Leliana protested, looking up sharply. "It is too beautiful. Your long hair suits you well. If you find it troublesome, I can help you braid it. It would be my honor." 

I blinked rapidly, startled by her vehemence against cutting my hair. "Oh... All right. If you want." What was she going to do when my roots started growing in? 

We finished washing quickly, and Leliana braided my hair as we dried. It was heavy between my shoulder blades, but it was no longer in my eyes. 

 When we got back to camp everything was packed up. Even my bedroll was taken care of.

Sten waited impatiently, already fully up and at it. Puppy lolled about at his feet, like he had found a new best friend. I think Sten was just too stoic to shoo him away.

Everyone was on the move after little more than a few more minutes.

I shuffled closer to Mahariel. "So... How long will it take to reach Redcliffe? That's where we're going, right?"

He nodded, shifting his weight. "Alistair said it would only be a few days. It is on the shore of Lake Calenhad. If we continue to follow the road, it will lead us along the shore and to the Arl's Redcliffe village."

I hummed. "Well, if the Arl's as sick as they say, I wonder who is in charge. The Arlessa, I think Alistair said. I hope she's reasonable. And that the village is in good condition. Might need supplies and stuff. Can always use more supplies."

Mahariel cast an uncertain glance my way. "... Indeed."

The village was going to be in a terrible position, it was unlikely they could spare many supplies, if any, and the Arlessa is entirely unreasonable about almost everything. 

I pursed my lips in resignation and wished for an iPod. 

* * *

The next night found us in the presence of Bodahn and Sandal again. The elder dwarf talked over a deal with Mahariel cheerily. I don't think our good leader could turn down such optimism and confidence in our small party. Plus, he offered discounted goods. Huzzah.

That didn't mean we had great access to food, Bodahn wasn't a baker, but he did have some spices. I managed to make a little deal of my own. If we shared our meals, he'd let us use some of his cheaper spices. Even a few spices did wonders to brighten the flavor of our meals.

The next few days were uneventful, but much more tolerable with our newest companion. The dwarf's placid bull was a big sweetheart too.

The night before we reached Redcliffe, I sidled over to Bodahn with the evening meal.

"Hey, you might want to stay here for the next few days. Or just... Away from Redcliffe," I warned quietly.

Bodahn peered at me with a quirked brow. "Oh? I had been planning on doing some trading with a fellow I know. Is there a problem?" His voice lowered to my volume.

"Well... I don't know, but the Arl is kind of sick. We don't really know what to expect. Better safe than sorry, right?" I said with a half-hearted smile.

Bodahn gave me a look and I deflated.

"Look, the Arl is sick. Deathly ill sick. No one knows why, and any attempts to find out haven't turned out well. Nearly all his knights are out on some treasure hunt for something impossible to find. Things are desperate there. Who knows what's going on. I just... I'd feel better if you and your son stayed safe, all right? If things are good, I promise we'll come back and get you. If they aren't..." I shrugged and poked around at my own plate.

Bodahn sighed, taking a bite. "I understand. 'Better safe than sorry', you said? That sounds like a good idea. It's hard to find safety these days. Very well, Sandal and I will wait here for a few days until you and your friends return."

I smiled widely at his acceptance. "Good. You won't regret it, promise."

Some ears were sharper than others, though.

Mahariel intercepted me on my way back to the main fire. He nodded in a general direction away and I sighed, shoveling the last of my meal into my mouth.

"You," Mahariel began, crossing his arms, "warned them to stay away from Redcliffe. Why?"

Okay, how to explain without sounding... Weird and prophetical.

"Um, well... The Arl is really sick, right? And Loghain is crazy, but he's not stupid. Who's to say he's not going to take advantage of this. The Arlessa is probably great and all, but the knights are out searching for this cure, leaving the place pretty weak. We have no idea what we're walking into."

That sounded decent, I guess. I sighed as Mahariel gave me a calculating look. "Like I told Bodahn, better safe than sorry. He and his kid aren't fighters. All they would do is get in the way if there really is shit going down. Besides, I already convinced them to stay, so no big deal."

The elf cocked his head, still quiet. Then he shrugged, dropping his arms.

"That is sound," he agreed, walking back. "You are smarter than you seem."

That's it?

"Okay? Wait, what the fuck does that mean? Hey!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Oct. 21, 2015


	12. Chapter 12

When we reached the cliff overlooking Redcliffe, I realized just how close we had been last night. It was barely afternoon, by the sun's time. Hell, we had been on the Arl's doorstep. I shivered to think how close we had been to that night's attack.

Today we'd see the aftermath. From where I stood, I could see people milling through the village. Not nearly as many as there should be for a village of that size. 

Alistair and Mahariel were huddled a bit away, the senior warden likely telling all about his royal bastard origins. Mahariel looked as if he could care less. 

That's all right, he might not care, but Alistair would be useful later. Mahariel deserved way better than this, and it's not like I cared much for Alistair. Maybe I wasn't a good mage, but I knew nearly all the possible outcomes of this tale. I would use every one of them to our advantage, regardless of protests. Alistair would have to suck it up and be a king.

"Hey," I called, pulling Mahariel and Alistair from their discussion. "We've got company."

Someone was running from the village up the path toward us. He reached the bridge, panting for breath, as we approached him with Mahariel at the fore.

"I... I thought I saw travelers coming down the road," he explained, "though I could scarcely believe it. Have you come to help us?"

"We have come to see Arl Eamon," Mahariel answered.

The man's brows furrowed. "The arl? Then... You don't know? Has nobody out there heard?"

Mahariel had clearly expected saying we needed to see the arl was enough. "We heard the Arl was sick..." He replied slowly, tilting his head.

"He could be dead, for all we know!" The man burst, a tad hysterical. "Nobody's heard from the castle in days."

He took a moment to inhale a calming breath before explaining. "We're under attack. Monsters come out of the castle every night and attack us until dawn. Everyone's been fighting... And dying."

"Apparently everyone seems to agree that a Blight is the perfect time to start killing each other." Morrigan commented with morbid amusement. "Marvelous, really."

I snorted before I could stop myself and Morrigan flashed me a smirk. Alistair looked at us in disgust. Our brief truce was over, I guess.

The man went on in desperation, ignoring Morrigan's comment. "We've no army to defend us, no arl and no king to send us help. So many are dead, and those left are terrified they're next."

Ah, the appeal-for-help spiel. We were going to be hearing it all year, everywhere we went. I could understand why Morrigan disapproved of every extra quest of good will the Wardens took on. Those quests would eat up what precious time we had to stop the Blight.

Morrigan wasn't a bitch, she was practical. Like it or not, practicality has a cold heart.

Alistair stepped up. "Hold on. What is this evil that's attacking you?" The worry in his voice reminded me of his upbringing. No, it hadn't been pleasant, but Redcliffe had been his home for his first decade of life. He was entitled to a little attachment.

The man shook his head in answer. "I... I don't rightly know; I'm sorry. Nobody does." He swallowed, eyes distant as he glanced over his shoulder at the village. "I should take you to Bann Teagan. He's all that's holding us together. He'll want to see you."

"Bann Teagan?" Alistair echoed. "Arl Eamon's brother? He's here?"

Our nervous greeter shifted on his feet. "Yes. It's not far, if you'll come with me?"

"Yes, of course." Alistair murmured, taking the lead.

He walked by the man's side down the path. The village was worn, beaten down by the recent events, but I doubt it had changed enough for Alistair to be unfamiliar with it. 

The approaching smell of the place had me wrinkling my nose. It wasn't just the stench of the charcoal around us, but... Human bodies. Refuse, rot. A lot of people had died, and it didn't smell pretty.

Villagers here and there, hardened by the loss of their neighbors and family, were dragging the corpses to the lakefront. Militia men were practicing in front of a large building, distinctly chantry-ish and boarded up hastily.

They paused to watch our little party, too confused to be hopeful that a group of people so small might be some help.

We entered the chantry, filled with yet more villagers. Women, children. Hardly any elderly, save those who were women. The elderly men that were among them were ones too old to lift swords and shoot arrows.

A man in finer clothing, though no less dirty than those of the villagers, stood at the far side of the chantry, speaking to someone in front of the candles. As we approached, he quickly finished his conversation and met us halfway.

"Tomas, yes?" He clarified, and Tomas nodded. "Who are these people with you? They're obviously not simple travelers."

"No, my lord. They just arrived, and I thought you would want to see them."

"Well done, Tomas." He patted the man's arm and Tomas fled, right back out the chantry doors.

"Greetings, friends. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the arl." Teagan introduced, bowing his head shortly.

"I remember you, Bann Teagan," Alistair murmured, voice laced in nostalgia, "though the last time we met I was a lot younger and... Covered in mud."

The bann's brows furrowed. "Covered in mud? ... Alistair?" His eyes brightened, stern face opening in a smile. "It is you, isn't it? You're alive! This is wonderful news!"

Alistair mood was clearly uplifted as well, even if he did shift in embarrassment. "Still alive yes, though I'm just as surprised about that as you are, believe me."

Teagan chuckled drily. "Indeed. Loghain would have us believe all Grey Wardens died along with my nephew, amongst other things."

Mahariel cocked his head. "Why?" He questioned. "What has Loghain said about us?"

"Loghain called the Grey Wardens traitors, murderers of the king," Teagan said bitterly, fists clenching. He shook his head and relaxed himself. "I don't believe it. It is an act of a desperate man," he assured us, looking first to Alistair.

We lingered in quiet, allowing the bann to analyze us. His eyes passed over each of us, but didn't bother to linger on me. I wasn't very interesting, thank god. Finally his eyes fixed on Mahariel.

"So... You are a Grey Warden as well? A pleasure to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances. No doubt you are here to see my brother?"

Alistair murmured an affirmation and Teagan sighed heavily.

"Unfortunately, that might be a problem. Eamon is gravely ill. No one has heard from the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls and no one has responded to my shouts. The attacks started a few nights ago. Evil... Things... Surged from the castle. We drove them back, but many perished during the assault."

"What evil things do you speak of?" Mahariel asked.

"Some call them the walking dead," Teagan informed him gravely. "Decomposing corpses returning to life with a hunger for human flesh... They hit again each night. When they come, it is with greater numbers than before."

Teagan began to pace, crossing his arms. "With Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war over the throne, no one responds to my urgent calls for help. I have a feeling tonight's assault will be the worst yet."

He stopped pacing and looked at Alistair, voice just short of pleading. "Alistair, I hate to ask it, but I desperately need the help of you and your friends."

Alistair backed away, just behind Mahariel. As if it were any surprise. The instant someone tries to put him in a position of authority that he didn't already take charge of, he's out.

"It isn't just up to me," he said quickly, though he cast a quick glance at Mahariel. "... Though the Grey Wardens don't stand much chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon."

Mahariel knew what Alistair wanted him to say. The elf's lips tightened, but he pointedly didn't look at Alistair as he said, "we will help."

Alistair visibly relaxed while Morrigan grumbled, "how pointless, to help these villagers fight an impossible battle. One would think we had enough to contend with elsewhere."

As the bann babbled his profuse gratitude, I murmured back to her. "Think of it this way; we help with this, and maybe the arl will be grateful enough to lend us some help. Like coin, horses, warmer clothes..." I left myself trail off and raised my brows suggestively.

Morrigan shrugged, but I could see she was considering it.

"Now then," Teagan said loudly, a pleased smile across his face, "there is much to do before night falls. I've put two men in charge of the defense outside. Murdock, the village mayor, is outside the chantry. Ser Perth, one of Eamon's knights, is just up the cliff at the windmill, watching the castle. You may discuss with them the preparations for the coming battle."

Mahariel accepted his words silently and turned about, leaving the chantry. Alistair hesitated a moment before following and we all trotted out after them like a group of ducklings.

The moment the chantry doors closed, Mahariel was giving us assignments.

"Alistair, go speak with the knight. Elizabeth, practice with Morrigan. Leliana, with me."

Oh, bleh.

I made a face at his back as he left. Morrigan huffed and stalked away. I followed closely. She lead us back up the path to the cliff, far enough from the edge we wouldn't be spotted by villagers. 

She sat down and beckoned me to sit beside her. Puppy huffed and flopped over away from us, rolling about on his back.

"Give me your hand," she commanded, holding her hand out, palm up.

I cautiously slipped my hand into hers and instantly started shivering. It felt like bugs were crawling over me. I would have snatched my hand back if Morrigan hadn't clenched hers around mine in a snare.

"Wh-What are you doing?" I stuttered, rolling my shoulder uncomfortably, itching at my arm.

"Stop," she snapped. "What you feel is a good sign. You are familiar enough with your magic that you can sense mine invading." She relaxed her hand and I instantly pulled away. The sensation stopped and I brought my hands together, rubbing them.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "... You now have a stronger connection to yourself. Because you did not to begin with, only now will we be able to start more useful training. 'Tis unlikely our leader will allow you into the fray tonight, though."

"Tsh, fine with me. You heard the man, decomposing corpses that eat people. Don't tell me you're looking forward to it either."

Morrigan's sneer was disgusted. "I am not. But I will be able to defend myself during the attack. Can you say the same?"

I scowled back at her. "Maybe if you teach me how."

The witch's face relaxed into smugness. "Then let us begin. Once you become acclimated to using your own magic, I doubt you will need training from me anymore. Your control will be such that you are no longer a... Constant danger to your fellows."

Why did everyone keep bringing that up?

I slouched with a glare, but she just arched a superior brow.

"We shall start with fire. It is the easiest element to call upon, though it is also the most volatile. Be careful."

"I will."

"Hold out your hand, as we did before. Allow your mana to gather in your palm. Warm it as you release it."

Remembering the disaster from before, I quickly flicked my hand out, palm upright. This time it was a little harder to get my mana into my palm. Instead of going there as I wanted, it had to be guided, forcefully even.

Once I felt it had accumulated enough, I tried to release it, but nothing expelled. I frowned at my palm, shaking it.

"It's not coming out," I complained, glaring at the uncooperative appendage.

"Let go of it," Morrigan said slowly, as if it were obvious.

It should have been, but I couldn't understand why it wasn't. I pressed at it inwardly, but it was like pressing gel through a straw. Eventually, tiny, colorless magelights floated from my palm.

I let out a frustrated huff and set about to gathering again. This time it was a easier to pull to my palm. As I pushed at it again, I tried to think of fire. This time curls of smoke gathered and rose.

"It is fire," Morrigan commented blandly, " _w_ _arm it_."

"Trying," I gritted, shooting her a glare. She blinked at me, unimpressed.

Fine. Fire, right? Warm wasn't fire, hot was fire. Warmth was the sensation fire gave off. But fire itself wasn't so simple a feeling. Fire burned.

I went through the motions again and this time I didn't just warm my magic, I burned it. I recalled all the sharp, searing pain of splattering oil, when I cooked. The time I had been a clueless child and grabbed a hot clothes iron. 

A long gout a flame burst up from my palm. Unconsciously, my magic was drained into the flame, as if sucked in by a vacuum.

It felt strange and, frankly, freaked me out. I quickly stoppered it and winced, shaking my arm once the flames went out. I felt like I had pinched myself from the inside and bruised my entire arm from the shoulder down. The feeling slowly eased, throbbing all the while.

Morrigan looked distinctly proud. "It will take practice to control the length, size, and duration of the fire, but we can manage that. Let us continue."

I groaned quietly. This magic, it was scary... But I had managed to control it. I stopped it when I wanted to, even as it tried to drain me. I was getting somewhere and maybe, just maybe, I would stop being so scared of it.

What was the phrase? Practice makes perfect.

* * *

About an hour in, Leliana stopped by with lunch and watched for a bit. She began asking questions about magic: what did it feel like, how did you control it, what could it do, and so on. As she started asking questions I couldn't answer, Morrigan chased her off with a narrow glare and scathing words. I think Leliana was more amused than threatened as she left.

When the sun was close to the horizon, Mahariel came and got us.

"We have made plans for the battle tonight," he told us as we walked down the path. "Elizabeth, you will be staying in the chantry with your Mabari. Morrigan, you will be with Alistair and I. We will defend the castle path by the windmill."

Which meant Leliana and Sten were likely to be in front of the chantry.

"All right," I said, accepting what Morrigan had predicted would happen. "What's for dinner?"

Mahariel looked relieved that I accepted my place. I had a feeling his day had not been very easy.

When we were closer, I could see there was a lot more weaponry about than there had been at our arrival. He had clearly managed to get the blacksmith to work with him. I wasn't sure how it had gone with the knights, but I had a feeling Mahariel couldn't have cared less.

We sat outside for now, but as the day grew dimmer the increasing tension around us only got worse. I didn't wait for anyone to tell me to go inside. I went as soon as the women and children started gathering up and heading back in. Puppy came in easily as well, spreading his saliva copiously among giggling children.

At least the mothers seemed relieved by his presence.

Soon the chantry sisters and brothers started lighting the candles around the small area, everyone gathered close. I pulled out my bedroll and blanket, wrapping it around myself. Puppy trotted over and curled around me, bringing a friend behind him.

A little girl, tan skin and fair hair, shuffled her feet before me. She looked about as old as my little sister.

"Do you want to sit with me?" I offered, holding out my blanket.

She nodded silently and quickly dropped down, snuggling into my side under the blanket.

When no one came to look for her after a few minutes, I assumed there was no one that could.

The chantry got darker and darker. Singing mothers quieted and children who weren't asleep now were going to be awake all night.

Distantly, we all heard groaning, shouts and clanging. I fancied I could hear Morrigan.

"Are we going to die tonight?" A little voice asked me.

I peered under my blanket at the girl. She was dry faced, but her eyes glimmered.

"No. I have friends out there, helping. Tomorrow we're going to fix the problem," I told her.

Hope filled her soft face. "You can stop this?" She whispered.

"We're going to try very hard. So I think we can."

The girl smiled widely up at me and I smiled back.

"Try to get some sleep, all right, baby?"

"'M not a baby..."

I chuckled and patted the girl's head. "You are to me. What's your name?"

"Mildred... Milly."

"My name is Elizabeth. I'll protect you, okay?" I could barely protect myself, but if saying that made her feel better then I would say it.

She hummed quietly and nodded, nestling back against me. Surprisingly enough, we both ended up falling asleep during the night's assault.

Shaking woke me up.

I shouted, clutching Milly close, while Puppy snuffled in my ear.

"Ew, augh, Puppy, stop it," I complained, batting him away. He just grinned, tongue lolling. Mahariel smiled in mild amusement as I released Milly from my bosom, and the girl stared wide eyed at the elf.

"So...?"

"Bann Teagan is about to make an announcement."

"All right. Come on, Milly, let's get up."

I yawned widely as I stood and my littlest companion giggled softly. She held my hand tightly as we exited the chantry. The rest of the group was already there, standing off to the side away from Bann Teagan in the center of the wide doors. They looked haggard and more than a little tired.

Fighting zombies all night can do that to you.

I shuffled toward them with Milly, who was craning her head about the adults to see into the crowd.

"Dawn arrives, and we survived the night," Teagan started, grave. "We are victorious! And, though this victory came at a great cost, we must remember none of us would be here were it not for the heroism of these good folk besides me."

He made a sweeping gesture toward Mahariel and the tired group. Only Alistair looked proud in his weariness. 

The bann stepped forward to Mahariel, a little for show, and offered his gratitude loudly. "I thank you, good ser. Truly, the Maker smiled on us when he sent you here in our darkest hour."

Mahairel was quiet as he answered, "there is still more to do."

Teagan frowned slightly and tilted himself away from the crowd as he responded in equal quiet tones. "Surely these people deserve some small celebration, don't you think? There is time yet."

Before Mahariel could say more, the Revered Mother spoke, gathering the village flock into prayer for the dead. Teagan turned away as well, his face set firmly against his grief.

"Murdock of Redcliffe," he rumbled, voice heavy as he spoke after the Mother, "mayor and beloved father, we salute you."

Beside me there was a little gasp and the small fingers holding my hand went limp. I looked down and Milly began weeping, quiet as a mouse.

No mother came for her last night, and, now, no father would come for her in the morning.

"Oh, baby," I murmured in sympathy, kneeling down to hold her close. Puppy whimpered beside us, leaning heavily against me to offer support. I wobbled and planted my feet in a sturdier position.

A warm body holding her loosed the flood gates. Milly burst into heavy sobs and clung tight.

I didn't listen to the rest of the little procession, too busy murmuring platitudes to an orphaned girl while she wept next to my ear.

Too soon, a hand dropped to my shoulder. I looked up and found it was Alistair, expression uncomfortable.

"We need to go to the mill." He murmured, nodding his head toward the retreating group.

I sighed and gently detached Milly.

"Babe, do you know someone you can stay with? I'm very sorry, but I have to leave right now."

Milly sniffled heavily, reaching up to wipe her dripping nose.

"I-I... Kaitlyn. Be-Be-Bevin's older sister. She... She's nice." The girl stammered.

"Okay, here's what I want you to do. You go to Kaitlyn, and stay with her and Bevin. Tell her a Grey Warden told you to go with her and that she's to look after you. After that, I'm sure Bann Teagan can help."

I sighed, looking at her hopeless face. "... I'm sorry this happened to you, baby. But we'll make it stop."

The little girl sniffed again and nodded. "Okay..."

I put up and smile and stroked her mussed hair. "Go find Kaitlyn now. I'll see you later."

She nodded again and reluctantly trudged away, wiping fiercely at her face.

I stood with a deep breath, Puppy whining at my hip.

"You're good with children. That's a surprise," Alistair commented, leading us up to the mill.

"Yeah, well, I'm the oldest. And I have a little sister her age."

"Oldest of how many?"

"Uh, four? ... Yeah, four."

Alistair raised a skeptical brow. "You're not certain of how many sibling's you've got running around?"

"Tsh, well, I've got me and my brother from my mom and dad. Then they separated and my dad got remarried and had a son. Haven't heard from them since. My mom got remarried and had a daughter. We were born far apart. She's about Milly's age. She's smart and she loves to read. I don't get to see her often, but when I do I read with her. She hates when I kiss her cheeks, but she's so cute, and..."

I realized I was gushing when I saw Alistair looking at me, bewildered.

My face reddened and I scowled. "What? Sorry for rambling."

He shook his head. "No, that's all right. It's just... Strange, somehow. That you adore someone." He froze, face immediately regretful. "Ah, not that I meant- Of course you would love your sister. Those are normal family feelings."

"... I'm kind of offended, but I think you're trying to apologize, so I'll let it go if you stop talking."

"Right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Oct. 27, 2015


	13. Chapter 13

Sten was waiting nearer to the knights than he was the rest of the group, where Bann Teagan was speaking with them. He cast a glance at Alistair and me when we passed, faintly disgruntled. 

"... Why did you not enter the castle in the first place, if you had use of this secret passage?" Mahariel questioned, cocking his head toward the mill.

"I had no idea what lurked in the castle!" Teagan protested. "And I couldn't abandon the people of the village! What if-"

Teagan's eyes trained on something, or someone, behind us, a sharp gasp cutting his protest short.

"Maker's breath!"

A woman in a fine, disheveled dress jogged toward us. Her eyes were alight with desperation, but the armored man jogging beside her had dull eyes that looked right through us.

"Teagan!" The woman cried out, voice high and accented as Leliana's was. "Thank the Maker you yet live!"

She was panting, but she gave herself no time to catch her breath, forging on. "I do not have time to explain! I slipped away from the castle as soon as I saw the battle was over and I must return quickly. And I..."

She looked away, biting her lower lip, before looking back to Teagan. "I need you to return with me, Teagan." She shuffled closer to him, an almost coy little dance. "Alone." In any other context, I would call it flirting. Seduction.

I coughed. "You don't seem too concerned about what's going on here, in the village."

The woman reared away from Teagan, head spinning as she snapped her gaze on me, thin brows drawn in. "What? I... Who is this woman, Teagan?" She demanded.

Alistair stepped forward with a weary sigh. "You remember me, Lady Isolde, don't you?"

Isolde narrowed her eyes, then sneered at Alistair as if his very presence was offensive.

"Alistair? Of all the... Why are _you_ here?"

Bann Teagan stepped in, sliding between Alistair and Isolde.

"They are Grey Wardens, Isolde. I owe them my life," he explained gently.

She deflated, even if her lip still curled. "Pardon me, I... I would exchange pleasantries, but... Considering the circumstances..."

Alistair stepped to the side, more visible than from behind Teagan. "Please, Lady Isolde, we had no idea anyone was even alive in the castle. We must have some answers!"

As if it were Teagan who spoke instead of Alistair, Isolde pressed toward the bann, face the perfect picture of feminine fear.

"I know you need more of an explanation, but I..." She lifted her hand, setting it against Teagan's chest intimately. "I don't know what is safe to tell."

Teagan stepped back uncertainly, Isolde's hand dropping. She continued, even as hurt flashed across her face.

"Teagan, there is a terrible evil within the castle. The dead waken and hunt the living. The mage responsible was caught, but still it continues. And I think Connor is going mad." Her voice hushed, tears edging at the corners of her eyes.

"We have survived, but he won't flee the castle. He has seen so much death! You must help him, Teagan! You are his uncle. You could reason with him. I do not know what else to do!"

Her tears fell, but her chin did not wibble and her eyes barely reddened. There was no way those tears could have been real. No one cries prettily.

Mahariel must have thought the same. "Why," he began, "do I feel that you are withholding something?"

Isolde jerked her head back as if slapped, a fierce scowl betraying her act. "I-I beg your pardon! That's a rather impertinent accusation!"

"Not if it is true."

The woman clenched her fists and would have been hissing if not for her upbringing.

"An evil I cannot fathom holds my son and husband hostage! I came for help! What more do you want from me?"

"But..." The bann cut in, "I do not understand what you mean by this 'evil'. Did it create the walking corpses? What is it?"

Isolde scoffed nastily. "Something the mage unleashed. So far it allows Eamon, Connor, and myself to live. The others... Were not so fortunate. It's killed so many, turned their bodies into walking nightmares!"

She shook her head, grimacing. "Once it was done with the castle, it struck the village. It wants us to live, but I do not know why. It allowed me to come for you Teagan, because I begged, because I said Connor needed help."

"Okay, hold it," I huffed, exasperated. 

"So, let me get this straight. It's an evil that you had to slip away from, supposedly unleashed by an unknown mage, that's killing and turning everyone into walking corpses. Apparently holding you, your son, and your husband hostage.

"But you've tried to convince Connor to leave and he won't. Yet, you said you were allowed to leave, but didn't you say you had to sneak away? Why is it suddenly that you're allowed to leave because you convinced this evil that _Connor_ needs help? What is it about Connor that the evil is trying to preserve him? So, something is wrong with Connor, you can talk to the evil causing all of this, and you have a captive mage around..." 

I sighed heavily, crossing my arms as I looked flatly at Isolde. "Someone's summoned a demon."

Isolde, who had grown increasingly stiff and pale, lunged forward.

My head flew to the side, my body stumbling after. I heard someone gasp, and Leliana cried out. Mahariel caught me, I think, before I fell on the ground completely.

I clutched my face, hunching protectively as I cursed. "Mother fucker!"

"How dare-!"

"Isolde, enough!"

I looked up through the pain in the side of my entire face and saw Teagan holding back the lady that just bitch slapped the shit out of me.

I hadn't outright said anything to implicate her son, ow!

My face throbbed and I knew it was going to be swelling and bruising. Mahariel foisted me off on Leliana, who quietly pried my hand away to look at my face. Her sympathetic wince told me it might already be swelling. If that was the case, then I hoped Isolde's hand hurt as much as my face did.

Teagan spoke softly to Isolde. "You must tell us everything, Isolde. If the mage summoned a demon..."

"Tell me about the mage," Mahariel demanded, voice hard.

Isolde was shaken, oddly demure now. "He is an... Infiltrator. One of the castle staff, I think. We discovered he was poisoning my husband. That is why Eamon fell ill."

The bann sucked in a sharp breath. "Eamon was poisoned?"

Isolde nodded briefly. "He claims to be an agent of Teyrn Loghain's. He may be lying, however, I cannot say."

"Sounds awfully lucid for someone housing a demon," I hissed suggestively. No one else could understand what I was implicating, but the tightening of Isolde's face told me she did.

"Enough," Teagan said, placing himself between us. "We need to decide what to do. The king is dead, and we need my brother now more than ever. I will return to the castle with you, Isolde."

The lady brightened, a small smile lighting her face. "Oh, thank the Maker!" She praised. "Bless you, Teagan! Bless you!"

Mahariel cocked his head. "What good will that do?"

Bann Teagan opened his hands helplessly. "I'm not certain, to be honest, but I cannot let Isolde return alone. Perhaps I can help Connor or Eamon. Perhaps this really is a trap, but this is my family. I cannot leave them to face a demon alone."

He drew himself up, facing Mahariel steadily. "I have no illusions of dealing with this evil alone. You, on the other hand, have proven quite formidable."

He turned to Isolde, stern leader once more. "Isolde, can you excuse us for a moment? We must confer in private before I return to the castle with you."

She nodded eagerly, still alight with a smile. "I will be by the bridge. Please, do not take long." Her dull-eyed companion followed her as she left.

The moment she was out of earshot, Teagan approached closely, speaking quickly in hushed tones.

"Here's what I propose: I go in with Isolde and you enter the castle using the secret passage. My signet ring unlocks the door. Perhaps I will... Distract the demon within and increase your chances of getting inside unnoticed. What do you say?"

Mahariel's lips thinned. He didn't like the plan.

"... What, exactly, am I supposed to do in there?" He asked, eyeing the bann.

Teagan sighed deeply. "I wish I knew. I have only heard of demons. Only templars know how to deal with such evil. Alistair, you received templar training before you became a Grey Warden, did you not?"

Alistair nodded hesitantly. "I did, but... I have never dealt with a demon before. I didn't take my rites to become a full templar before Duncan got me."

"I'm afraid we will have to rely on what training you did get. I am sorry to place this on you, Alistair."

"I'll do my best."

"Thank you." Teagan looked over our shoulders at the knights. "Ser Perth and his men can watch for danger at the castle entrance. If you can open the gates from within, they can move in and help you."

He pulled off a thick ring from his hand, holding it out to Mahariel.

"Here is my signet ring. Keep it safe, please. Whatever you do, Eamon is the priority here. If you have to, just get him out of there. Isolde, me, and anyone else... We're expendable."

"Understood," Mahariel replied solemnly.

Teagan looked to the bridge where Isolde waited. "I can delay no longer." He bowed halfway to us. "I bid you farewell... And good luck."

The bann jogged away, out of sight once he rounded the hill.

"So, we are just going to send him with that woman?" Leliana murmured, not even deigning to say Isolde's name. "It seems so dangerous."

I growled. "She's not exactly subtle or good at hiding things. Things are going to be worse than she said, I know it."

Mahariel stepped beside me. "Elizabeth, you're sure it's demon?"

"It's kind of hard to be anything else. What other magic can do something like this? But... She said they caught the mage and they can get answers from him. I don't think a demon would be answering her questions like that. The mage they caught isn't the one who summoned the demon."

"Then there is another mage."

"Possibly."

"For someone new to magic, you know much about abominations. I would like to hear how you came across this knowledge," Morrigan drawled, her sharp eyes on me.

Uh... 

I swallowed as everyone looked at me consideringly. 

"Um... Now isn't the best time."

Mahariel, thankfully, agreed. "Yes, we need to go now. Elizabeth... Stay close."

I didn't really want to go, but I sure as hell didn't want to stay either.

"Okay."

The trap door was surrounded by hay, but visible. We dusted it off and Mahariel unlocked it. Alistair held the door open as we all climbed down the steps.

The hallway was dark, so Morrigan led the way with a wisp before her to illuminate the passage. 

It was a short walk to a doorway, wooden stairs leading upward. They creaked, old, but were sturdy beneath our collective weight. Thankfully, the hall we entered at the top of the stairs was lit by a skylight, though it was no less gloomy for all the dust and cobwebs.

Alistair caught sight of the bars in the square opening and remarked, "I once locked myself in a cage as a child. For an entire day. Ah, good times."

I stared at him. "... You never grew out of it then?"

"What?"

"Your stupidity."

Alistair flushed and growled at me. "Between you and Morrigan, I'm beginning to wonder if you come up with insults behind my back and wait for opportunities to use them."

I simply snickered in response.

Mahariel opened the door, and at the other end were what looked like dried out mummies, their armor falling off their emaciated bodies. They snarled and lunged repeatedly at a cell in front of them.

Before their attention was drawn to us, Mahariel and Leliana dropped them swiftly with an arrow in each of their heads. I hardly saw them ready their bows.

"Hello?" A hopeful voice rang out, "who's there? Is there anyone alive out there?"

We approached the cell carefully, Mahariel and Leliana training their bows at the downed corpses. When we got close enough to see the prisoner the corpses had been harassing, they relaxed.

"Wait..." The man stepped back, eyeing us and our armor uncertainly. He was kind of pretty. He had soft eyes, surrounded by thick lashes, and a curved mouth that would have looked better smiling. His hair, however, was grungy and oily while his jaw was thick with stubble. "You don't look like the arlessa's guards. Are you from outside the castle?"

Mahariel didn't answer, instead questioning back. "Are you the mage Lady Isolde mentioned?"

That's right, he was wearing robes and he was locked up. Jowan. That's his name. Best friend of the Amell or Surana mage origins. I wonder if they were even around.

Jowan's entire body language fell. "You've spoken to her, then. You know what I did."

Mahariel nodded. "She claims you poisoned the arl."

"I'm not proud of my deed," he sighed in admittance. "Poisoning Arl Eamon was what I was hired to do. Lady Isolde had no idea when she took me in to tutor her son."

"Tutor Connor? Are the walking corpses related?"

Jowan hurried forward, grasping the bars of his cell. "I-I know it looks suspicious, but I'm not responsible for the creatures and the killings in the castle. I was already imprisoned when it began." He stepped back, releasing the bars and taking a breath.

"At first, Lady Isolde came here with her men, demanding that I reverse what I'd done. I thought she meant my poisoning of the arl. That's the first I heard about the walking corpses. She thought I'd summoned a demon to torment her family and destroy Redcliffe."

He looked down, holding out his fingers. There were fading angry, red marks circling his wrists. "She... Had me tortured. There was nothing I could do or say that would appease her. So they left me to rot."

I stepped in. "Why did she hire you to tutor her son?"

I knew, but no one else did. I couldn't let my knowledge show. It wasn't something I wanted to explain.

"Lady Isolde was looking for a mage to tutor Connor, secretly. Teyrn Loghain found out and he... Sent me. I was to use the opportunity to poison the arl. I was told that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, that if I dealt with him Loghain would settle matters with the Circle." He flashed us a guilty look. "You see... I'm a maleficar: a blood mage."

"A blood mage!" Alistair hissed, reeling back from the cell.

Morrigan only peered more curiously at Jowan. "Truly? I would never have guessed." He was rather, well, meek.

"Ah, ah!" I drew their attention. "More importantly, he was tutoring Connor. And just what does a mage tutor a young boy in?" I grinned, sing-songing, "Ma-gic!"

"Connor? A mage?" Alistair shook his head. "I can't believe it!"

Jowan nodded. "Connor had started to show signs," He explained. "Lady Isolde was terrified the Circle of Magi would take him away for training. She sought an apostate to teach her son in secret to hide his talent. Arl Eamon had no idea."

Mahariel shared a glance with me. Now we were on the same page. "How much magic did you teach Connor?" He asked.

"Some," Jowan admitted, "But he's still very young. He can barely cast a minor spell, nevermind something more powerful... At least, not intentionally. I have thought about it, and it's possible Connor could have inadvertently done something to tear open the Veil. Then spirits and demons could infiltrate the castle. Powerful ones could kill and create those walking corpses."

I huffed, justified now for my insinuating. "Great. What now? This doesn't really change much."

Morrigan shrugged. "I say this boy can still be of use to us. If not, let him go. Why keep him prisoner here?"

"Hey, hey!" Alistair protested, "let's not forget he's a blood mage! You can't just set a blood mage free!"

"Better to slay him?" Morrigan shot right back, eyes narrowing. "Better to punish him for his choices? Is this Alistair who speaks or the templar?"

"I'd say it's common sense. We don't even know the whole story yet."

"Um, yeah, we do." I pointed out, "Connor does magic, Isolde gets scared, hires freelance mage to help Connor hide. Mage poisons daddy, Connor gets scared and tears open the Veil looking for help. Sounds like what happened to me."

While we argued, Mahariel ignored us and approached the cell. He picked the lock under Alistair's protesting nose and freed Jowan.

The mage slowly stepped out, eyes on Alistair and Sten. "I-I promise, I'll make things right. Just give me a chance." He was near begging.

Alistair groaned, rubbing his face. "Well, he's free now. What I think doesn't matter anymore," he said, scowling at an unrepentant Mahariel.

I flapped at hand at Jowan. "Go, be free, make good choices."

He drew himself up. "No, I'm not leaving. I made a mistake and I'm going to find some way to fix it."

I sighed, "Yeah, okay. Just... don't follow us, all right? Blood mages attract demons, and we're going to have enough trouble as it is."

Once again, he fell into a guilty stance. "... All right. But I'll be here," he promised, slinking back the way we came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Nov. 3, 2015


	14. Chapter 14

Leliana watched the mage go, brows furrowed. "Are we really going to let him go, all by himself?" She asked.

"Better than being left in that cell," Mahariel told her, turning away. He had already stopped for one thing, it wasn't as if he wanted to linger. Bann Teagan was waiting.

We walked into the next room, Mahariel first with his bow at the ready. It looked fairly empty, stale piles of hay in a corner, various rags and filth around. A small rat scurried away from the skeleton he had been picking apart.

In fact... There were several skeletons in this room, all like the ones that Leliana and Mahariel had killed in the hall of cells, wearing loose armor. My back prickled, shoulders tight with tension. This room felt wrong.

I didn't voice it, just moved closer to Alistair as we headed for the stairs on the opposite end. As I passed it, a skeleton beside my foot creaked, and its bony hand reached for me.

I screamed and shoved my hands forward, hot power barreling down my arms. The skeleton went up like an explosion, turning into a blackened pile of bones. The shouts of protest around me shortly turned into shouts of battle as they took care of the other skeletons rising around us.

Beside me Morrigan aimed a lazy frost spell at the area that had gone up in flames due to my frightened fireball.

"Sorry..." I muttered.

She glanced at me and shrugged a shoulder. "'Tis fire. Fire eats. Practice control; I shall teach you fire's opposite when we next have a chance. You will need it."

"Okay."

Mahariel and Leliana collected their arrows, and we continued up the stairs into the castle. It was better than the dungeon we had been in, but I didn't have high expectations for our welcome.

"We're in the castle now," Alistair confirmed, "we just need to find Bann Teagan."

We slipped into a hallway with a long, leading blue rug, and the heavy wooden door creaked slightly as we opened it. Walking corpses around the corner heard us and groaned as they shambled over.

There were only three. Mahariel and Leliana got one each, and Morrigan froze another. As we passed it, she casually knocked it over and it shattered in pieces. Alistair shot her a glare.

"Those things are not deaf," he hissed at her.

She sniffed, pursing her lips. "We will encounter them, regardless of the noise we make."

Alistair narrowed his eyes, and I'm sure he would have growled if Mahariel hadn't snapped, "quiet," at them. He motioned for Alistair to come closer.

"You know the castle. Can you lead us where you think Bann Teagan and the others might be?"

Alistair's brow wrinkled. "I can. They've got to be in the main hall, that's closest to the family quarters. Lady Isolde is probably staying close to Connor and Arl Eamon. If he can't be moved, then he must be in his room. We're in a wing right now, I recognize this hallway. Their personal chantry is there." He pointed to the doors opposite the ones we came in.

Mahariel nodded. "All right. Let's go."

Easier said than done. There were more corpses down the rest of the hallway, and when we entered a sitting room, they spilled in, roaring angrily.

Puppy, who had been content with staying at my side until now, was in the fray, furiously helping everyone bring down the small horde.

Sten pummeled them with his giant fists, knocking the corpses aside. Morrigan used that to her advantage, freezing them before they got up from the qunari's devastating blows.

I wanted to help, but all I knew was fire. A fire here would just spread. There was a wooden table, wooden chairs, wood supports. I remembered making lightning, but now wasn't the best time to be experimenting.

So I stayed uselessly in the corner, watching and waiting as everyone else finished up the hungry corpses.

While the archers went through the small battlefield, gathering their arrows, Mahariel glanced my way. I cocked my head in question and he looked down again, a glint of metal in his hand. He closed his hand over it and approached me, pressing a hilt into my hand.

A dagger. It was small and not anything fancy, already stained with blood. But it was sharp enough to work.

"Take this. Use it when you can't use your magic and we can't protect you."

Our eyes met, his sharp and determined. He was trying to keep me safe, even though I was little more than a liability. I gripped the dagger hilt tightly.

"Okay. Thanks."

One of these days I wanted to be able to stand beside the rest of them. I was tired of cowering, being treated like a delicate bomb. I wanted to help and protect them, and right now I doubted even my foresight was useful. This situation... It was unacceptable.

Duncan didn't bring me into the fold of the Grey Wardens for me to be extra baggage.

We passed the room into what looked like barracks. I guessed that the sitting room had been a lounge for the guards. A side door at the end of the hall was open, faint growling whispering out of it. Mahariel dropped into a crouch and shuffled forward, but Puppy wasn't having any of that.

Snarling, the big mabari leapt forward, charging into the room. Mahariel cursed and drew his dagger, running after him. A flurry of snarls rose from the room.

We all rushed forward on their heels. Growling and snarling cut off into yelps and whimpers, which fell into silence. My heart pounded, blood thick with worry over Puppy as I bullied myself to the front of the group now that the fighting was done.

Puppy was fine. Well, as fine as a blood covered dog could be. He was sitting on his haunches, licking his foreleg. It looked a bit ragged.

I knelt in relief beside him, rubbing his ears. "Morrigan, do you have some salve or something that Puppy could use?"

The witch sighed. "I do. But I will not waste bandages on this mutt. This is a kennel room, there should be some about."

"Okay. Puppy, let Morrigan put that stuff on your bite, okay?"

The dog pouted at me. I swear, he did.

"We will move ahead and scout the rooms," Mahariel informed us. "Follow us once the mabari is seen to."

I hoped they wouldn't go too far; I wasn't sure if my memory of the castle layout could be trusted.

I rummaged the room for strips of cloth, stowing all I found in my arms. It was probably too much for Puppy, but we could use it some other time. I doubted we'd ever not need bandages.

"Bring the cloth here," Morrigan commanded, a touch irritable. I turned around to see her fending off Puppy, who was trying to sneak a lick in on her cheek.

I stifled a giggle and passed off what I had found.

While she wrapped Puppy's leg, she questioned, "Will you now explain your knowledge of abominations?"

She wanted to ask this now? I wracked my brain quickly.

"Ah, well... Okay, but I'd really appreciate if you kept this to yourself," I spoke fast and nervous. "Only Theron really knows. Duncan too, but, well, he doesn't really count anymore and... Look, I just..."

Morrigan stood, crossing her arms. Her eyes looked sharply at me.

"I came through a magic corrupted mirror and it stole my memories. Mostly."

She arched a brow.

"Seriously, I can't make up something like that. I don't remember a lot. Just bits and pieces. Hell, maybe I was a mage before and I lost all of it."

"Yet you conveniently remember details of abominations."

I sighed heavily to hide my frustration and clenched my hands to hide the shaking. "Look, I didn't choose what to forget and what to remember. Most of the time I'm just grateful to remember my name and my family. Can we drop it?"

She didn't really believe me, and I knew she would be confirming my story with Mahariel later. But she didn't question me further, and we left the kennel room.

The group hadn't gone far. They were at the end of the hallway, crowded around a door. A wavering feminine voice whispered to Mahariel.

"That's all right. I-I know the castle, and I can run fast. Thank you!"

A young woman slipped out, pausing at the sight of us, before running right past us. She looked frightened, but hopeful and determined.

"She was...?" I asked, watching her go.

"Valena. She's the blacksmith's daughter," Alistair filled us in. "The Arlessa hid her in this storage room when things got bad."

Huh. I guess that woman wasn't entirely bad.

Alistair led us into a room that looked something like a personal dining room. There was probably a bigger formal dining room for the Arl's family. The servants would eat here.

He tried the big door, studded in iron, but the thing wouldn't budge.

"Ugh," He growled. "It's barred. This is the way to the main hall, but..." He looked to the door off to the side. "That way is through the kitchen. There's a basement where they keep preserved food, past the larder. There are stairs in the basement that lead onto the grounds."

I imagined Alistair often snuck into the larder that way when he was hungry. Just because the Arl kept him a secret, didn't mean he kept him safe. Or fed.

And, of course, there was a group of shambling skeletons in the kitchen. Why always skeletons? Did their flesh just slough off when the spirits took them over? They couldn't have been dead so long that their bodies decomposed to that point already.

Whatever the case, their mobility wasn't hindered at all by lack of muscle and tendon. I was just glad that the room, long as it was, was limited enough in width that no skeletons could have gotten past Alistair, Sten, and Puppy without meeting our archers and Morrigan. Therefore, I, in the back, was completely safe.

And, while I was glad, I was still frustrated. 

Thankfully, the basement was empty and we crept into an equally empty courtyard. This wasn't... There was supposed to be something here.

Alistair let out a breath of relief. "There's the entrance to the main hall." He pointed up the wide steps to the equally wide doors. "I'll open the gates to allow the knights-"

A roar interrupted him, and we all cried out as we were inexplicably pulled forward, off our feet. I stumbled to a stop, falling to my knees in front of something wearing rusted, jagged armor.

Sten roared, and I looked up to see the enemy, entirely different from the skeletons we had been facing. Its great sword thrusted to the side and caught Sten's arm. It only grazed him, but it was no shallow graze. He had come very close to outright stabbing Sten through his shoulder.

I was silent as I backed my ass across the ground until I was far enough away that I felt comfortable taking the time to get up on my feet and just run.

That was death, right there. If death, furious and violent death, ever had a face, that would be it.

Mahariel and Leliana tried to put some distance between themselves and the furious dead knight, but he reached out to them,  _pulling_ them back into his range. The only reason neither of them landed on his sword was Alistair, charging the thing with his shield.

It stumbled, but not for long. And I realized it wasn't alone when I was grabbed with great force and thrown onto the ground. I screamed as a skeleton threw itself on me, jaws clattering as it shrieked right back at me.

I frantically called up my magic, and it built in my hands as I struggled to fend off the creature, so strong for just bones. When I let it go, it was in a boom of lightning.

The brightness of it hurt my eyes, but I squinted through the light to see the skeleton steaming on its side.

I yelped as I was suddenly jerked back. One moment I was sitting, the next I was gasping as my feet flailed in the air, thin but powerful fingers squeezing around my throat. It was a revenant, I remembered as my vision started fading. That's what was killing me. I fumbled at my side, reaching for the dagger Mahariel had given me.

Before I could grasp the hilt, its grip wavered and I was released, falling hard on the ground. I shivered as I sucked in air, clawing to my knees and feet to run. Leliana caught me and held me tight, even as I tried to fight her grip. She murmured gently to me in her language, her hand stroking my hair.

I trembled near violently, clinging to Leliana. How was I supposed to calm down? I couldn't... No, what I couldn't do was break down. I sucked in deep breaths, slowly dragging my hands away from Leliana. "You're fine, mon amie," she reassured me quietly. "It's over, Alistair has slain it."

Of course, Alistair killed it. It's dead.

My legs were steadier as I walked towards the crumbling revenant, demon purged by its second death.

My face tightened with anger. Never again. I refuse to ever be in that position again. My magic frightened me, but it was the only means of fighting I had. If it frightened me, then how fearsome would it be when I could control it? 

I turned away, walking to the steps. When I reached them I sat and pressed my face to my knees. I felt a warm muzzle press against my ear, Puppy whimpering in concern. For him, I lifted my head and scratched his ears. I would have said something like "good boy", but I felt my voice would betray me if I spoke.

A pair of black boots stepped into my view and I looked up at Morrigan. Her face was carefully neutral as she sat beside me. Without warning, she took my face in her hands and pulled me upright. I was too startled to protest beyond a strangled squeak.

With my back straight, she reached for my exposed neck.

Her fingers became skeletal, hard as bone, and I couldn't breathe. Before I could process my actions, I threw myself back against the stairs, stone bruising my back. Puppy lunged between us, snarling and baring his teeth.

Morrigan leaned back, hands up and brows drawn irritably. "Call off your mutt. Your neck needs healing. I admit, I have little healing talent, but I know enough to close cuts and soothe bruises."

Oh.

I flushed in embarrassment and reached up to tug at Puppy's collar. He grumbled at Morrigan, but followed where I pulled him. I tried to mold apologetic expression, but Morrigan just clucked her tongue and scooted forward.

This time I was prepared, but I still tensed as she set her palms on either side of my throat. I focused on the warmth of her touch, the give of her skin and not the bones that kept jumping to mind, squeezing so tight.

Her magic curled over my aching neck. It actively soothed the bruising, flowing and twining with my own magic to encourage it to cooperate in the healing. After a moment she slowly pulled away, our magic disconnecting.

"That was... Weird," I commented. "Thank you. Sorry about, you know." I gestured, demonstrating my flailing, but she dismissed it, standing.

"It is always easier to heal a mage. What you felt was your magic simply agreeing to copy what mine was already doing for you. Now, up with you. I believe our esteemed leader is ready to move on."

I pushed myself up from the stairs and met Theron's eyes. He carefully looked me over, silently questioning my well-being. I nodded to him and that was enough reassurance. He turned away.

"Alistair, open the gate. Leliana, go and retrieve the knights, please."

Right. Considering what we had faced here, not even at the heart of the problem, it's no wonder he'd want back up before going in.

They left to do as Theron bid, and the elf approached me.

"I understand you can only go so far with your limited knowledge of magic," he murmured. "But you are one of only three wardens in all of Ferelden. You _must not_ die."

I swallowed thickly, feeling the twinge of an ache left behind by the revenant's hold.

"I understand. All my spare time will be spent practicing. This..." I glanced at the corpse. "This won't happen again."

We didn't loiter long before Leliana showed up with the knights in tow, ready to retake the castle.

"Be ready," Theron whispered as two knights opened the great doors.

Inside was a faint quiet, punctuated by clapping hands and stomping boots. We crept forward, as stealthily as one could with a small contingent of plate armor-clad knights.

When we rounded the corner there was Connor, Lady Isolde beside him. She miserably watched Bann Teagan perform tricks like a circus dog in front of them. A huge hearth behind them held a fire that lit Connor from behind. He looked like another other happy, amused boy, laughing at his Uncle's antics.

The guards surrounding them were much like the one that came with Isolde, dull eyed as if blind to everything around them.

Connor caught sight of us, and snapped up a hand, halting Teagan in his tumbling like a puppet.

"So, these are our visitors?" He spoke, voice layered with deeper tones. His eyes flashed purple. "The ones you told me about, mother?"

Isolde curled inward on herself as she was addressed. "Y-Yes, Connor."

"And this is the one who defeated my soldiers? The ones sent to reclaim my village?" The boy sneered nastily, an expression that didn't suit his young face. "And now it's staring at me! What is it, mother? I can't see it well enough."

He did appear to be squinting at Theron, cocking his head at a sharp angle.

"This is an elf, Connor," Isolde told him in a fearfully gentle tone. "You... You've seen elves before. We have them, here, in the castle."

The boy pondered a moment longer, then chuckled darkly. "Oh, I remember! I had their ears cut off and fed to the dogs! They chewed for hours! Shall I send it to the kennels, mother?"

I could see Theron visibly stiffen, his hands curling in want for his daggers.

Isolde gasped, kneeling before Connor. She made an aborted movement to take his arms, stopped by the boy's glare.

"C-Connor, I beg you, don't hurt anyone!"

The purple sheen in his eyes cleared and his face softened. He pressed a pale hand against his forehead, as if it ached.

"Mo-Mother?" His voice was thin and high, like it should be for a boy of his age. "What... What's happening? Where am I?"

Isolde bloomed with hope. "Oh, thank the Maker! Connor? Connor, can you hear me?"

Just like that, his eyes glowed with purple and he lashed out, shoving Isolde away. She stumbled, falling on her back over the short steps behind her.

"Get away from me, fool woman!" The demon snarled. He collected himself with a breath and narrowed his gaze at us all. Then he spoke, with deadly deliberation, "you are beginning to bore me." 

Someone behind us found their voice and swore, "Maker's breath! What has happened here?"

Isolde pushed herself up, finding her feet as she begged, "Warden... Please, don't hurt my son. He's not responsible for what he does!"

Theron was not in a merciful mood. "So... _he_ is the evil force you spoke of?"

Isolde sobbed, "no, don't say that!"

Morrigan wasn't feeling kind either. "The boy has become an abomination, and sundered the Veil."

Isolde shook her head in denial. "Connor didn't mean to do this! It was that mage- the one who poisoned Eamon- he started all this! He summoned the demon! Connor was just trying to help his father!"

"If the mage had summoned the demon, he would be the one who was the abomination," I told her. "Connor is possessed, so he's the one who dealt with demons."

"It was a fair deal!" The demon shouted at us. "Father is alive, just as I wanted. Now it's my turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to conquer the world! Nobody tells me what to do anymore!"

Bann Teagan cackled from his spot on the floor. "Nobody tells him what to do!" He sang. "Nobody!"

"Quiet, uncle!" Connor snapped. "I warned you what would happen if you kept shouting, didn't I? Yes, I did." He sniffed dismissively and returned his attention to us. "But let's keep thing civil... This elf shall have the audience he seeks. Tell us, what have you come here for?"

"Arl Eamon," Theron answered curtly.

"Another concerned well-wisher. Why didn't you say so in the first place?" The boy's lips curled slyly. "All this sneaking around and killing... So unnecessary," he sighed as if put-upon, waving a hand. "But father is so very ill. We really shouldn't disturb him. Isn't that right, mother?"

"I... I don't think-"

"Of course you don't," Connor cut her off. "Ever since you sent the knights away you do nothing but deprive me of my fun. Frankly, it's getting dull. I crave excitement! And action!" He jabbed a finger in Theron's direction. "This elf has spoiled my sport by saving that stupid village, and now he'll repay me!"

The dull eyed guards leapt into action at once, throwing themselves upon us without even fully drawing their swords.

I wasn't going to be useless this time. I clutched my staff and readied my hand. I didn't quite know how to funnel magic through the staff yet, but it could bludgeon a skull nicely.

Good thing too. Bann Teagan leapt right for me. If he had the skills he normally did, I would have died right there. But he was nothing but a possessed vessel right now. I brought my staff down right over his head, and down he fell.

Around me, the guards were not so lucky as to be simply knocked out. Most of them were killed by the more skilled knights and Warden party, left bleeding on the stones of the castle floor.

During the battle, Connor had disappeared.

Isolde flew to Teagan as the man groaned, cradling his head as he picked himself up.

"Teagan! Are you all right? Blessed Andraste, I would never have forgiven myself had you died, not after I brought you here. What a fool I am!"

As Teagan recovered, Isolde used her doe eyes on us, wet with tears. "Please, Connor's not responsible for this! There must be some way we can save him."

Theron looked at the daggers he was cleaning, red with blood. "I see no way this can end happily."

From a side door, likely for servants, an unwelcome, blue robed mage entered the scene. "I am sorry, my lady, but Connor has become an abomination. He's no longer your son."

"Bad timing," I muttered.

Isolde shrieked, "you! You did this to Connor!" If she wasn't holding up Teagan, she would have leapt on him and clawed out his eyes.

"I didn't!" Jowan protested, backpedaling, hands up. "I didn't summon any demon, I told you. Please, if you'll let me help..."

"Help?!" Isolde snarled, "you betrayed me! I brought you here to help my son, and in return you poisoned my husband!"

The Bann placed a calming hand on Isolde's arm. "This is the mage you spoke of? Didn't you say he was in the dungeon?"

"He was," Isolde gritted, too infuriated to act like a proper lady. "I assumed the creatures had killed him by now. He must have been set free."

Jowan cowered under Isolde's fury, but he still carried on, digging his grave in the name of atonement. "I know what you must think of me, my lady. I took advantage of your fear. I am sorry. I... never knew it would come to this."

Teagan sighed and pulled away from Isolde to stand under his own strength. "Well, I shan't turn away his help, not yet. And if Connor truly is an abomination-"

Once again, Isolde was quick to deny such an accusation. "He is not always the demon you saw. Connor is still inside him, and sometimes he breaks through. Please, I just want to protect him!"

"Isn't that what started this?" The Bann questioned sharply. "You hired the mage to teach Connor in secret... To protect him."

"If they discovered Connor had magic, then they'd take him away!" Isolde protested. "I thought if he learned just enough to hide it, then..." But she bowed her head, tears slipping as she hiccuped. 

"What are our options?" Theron addressed us, turning away from the distraught family.

Alistair spoke first, from his templar training. "I wouldn't normally suggest slaying a child, but... He's an abomination. I'm not sure there's any choice."

"We can't kill a young boy, demon or no demon," Leliana input, frowning at Alistair. "Please don't say we're considering that."

Jowan spoke up from behind us. "There is... Another option, though I loathe to offer it. A mage could confront the demon in the Fade, without hurting Connor himself."

Teagan overheard us, latching on to the idea of Connor's survival. "What do you mean? Is the demon not within Connor?"

"Not physically," Jowan explained. "The demon approached Connor in the Fade while he dreamt, and controls him from there. We can use the connection between them to find the demon and defeat it."

"You can enter the Fade, then? And kill the demon without hurting my boy?" Isolde asked, feverish with hope.

"No, but I can enable another mage to do so. It normally requires lyrium and several mages, but I have... Blood magic."

Alistair hissed uncomfortably, while Teagan asked, "what difference does that make?"

"Lyrium provides the power for the ritual. But I can take that power from someone's life energy. This ritual requires a lot of it, however. All of it, in fact."

Teagan processed this slowly. "So... Someone must die? Someone must be sacrificed?"

Jowan nodded somberly. "Yes, and then we send another mage into the Fade. I can't enter because I'm doing the ritual. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. It's... Not much of an option."

"Someone is going to die, either way," Theron said, unmoved.

Isolde agreed, "indeed. Either my son, or the sacrifice. Let it be me, then. I will give my life for his."

She had ignored society, the suffering of her people, and the deaths of so many around her, and all for her son. One boy. After that, her own life was just one more sacrifice. 

"What? Isolde, are you mad?! Eamon would never allow this!" Teagan cried, gripping her arm.

She looked him straight in the eye, calm and entirely accepting of dying in the place of her son.

"Either someone kills my son to destroy that thing inside him, or I give my life so my son can live. To me, the answer is clear."

"Blood magic," Alistair spat. "How can more evil be of any help here? Two wrongs don't make a right."

Morrigan shrugged, likely for either choice, as long as the situation was resolved. "It does seem like a sensible choice, with a willing participant."

"Connor is blameless to this," Isolde encouraged us. "He should not have to pay the price."

Theron was scowling unhappily. He knew it was going to be his decision, ultimately.

"I... Need some time to consider," he said, pushing himself off the table he had been leaning against. He left to pace in an adjoining room. No one followed him, so I did.

"Hey... If you need to bounce ideas off someone..." I offered.

He growled quietly. "I am to kill a child or kill his mother. There is no right choice here, no ideas to 'bounce'."

I tightened my lips. I knew what the "best" choice was, but I couldn't see any way that would work. Traveling by land would take days, an entire week or more there and back. Even over the lake, by boat, it would be several hours of travel, and addressing their issues would take at least an entire day.

Already, the group had been awake for over twenty-four hours. They were lucky to still be so alert right now. Added to that, while the game had portrayed Connor's demon as staying placid during the venture to the Tower, I seriously doubted that the same would hold true now.

"Isolde is offering herself, but... There's no telling that ritual will actually work. And Connor, well, he's an abomination now," I said. "Maybe not completely, not yet, but it doesn't look like it'll be long before it takes him over entirely."

Theron paced faster, arms crossed and gripping his elbows tightly.

"... Do you think anyone else would be a willing sacrifice? One of the knights?" I suggested.

"No," Theron said, cutting the idea with a sweep of his arm. "We will not be asking for sacrifices that did not volunteer themselves."

Yeah, that hadn't been the best idea.

"Flip a coin then."

He stopped, staring at me incredulously. "You... Would ask me to gamble two lives on the side a coin lands?"

I shrugged, trying not to quail under his hard stare. "Either way, someone dies, right? A child or a woman. If you can't decide, then let the coin do it for you."

For a moment, it looked as if he was seriously considering it. He felt at the pouch tied to his side, pulling out a copper. He turned it in his hand, looking at the sides.

"... No. I will not tell a family I decided their fate on the toss of a coin," Theron said, tucking the coin away. "Magic is the beginning of this bloody mess, and we all saw the child has clearly been possessed. I have never heard of a person recovering from a demon's possession."

He hardened his face, and I followed him back into the main hall.

Very carefully, he spoke.

"The abomination is to be taken care of."

"Please, don't!" Isolde begged, her voice tearing. "It isn't his fault! He just tried to help his father; why must he pay with his life?"

Her legs weakened, and Teagan caught her before she fell. "Do not make this any harder than it is, Isolde. He has made his decision."

She pushed herself from him, snarling gutturally. "Who says _he_ gets to decide? I'm Connor's mother! I'm the Arlessa!"

The Bann loomed over her. "This is what must be done!"

She screamed back at him, covering her face. "No-oo! No! I won't let you!" She shoved him again and tried to charge Theron. Teagan grabbed her and held her firmly. "This isn't right!" She screamed. " _This isn't right!_ "

"This isn't right," Leliana repeated quietly at Theron's back. "Please, don't do this. There must be another way."

"The only other way would be to drain Isolde of blood in a magic ritual that might or might not work," I hissed.

"You don't know that," she murmured back. "You do this, and you'll be killing an innocent. His death will not make up for any of the others."

"No," Theron agreed. "But it will prevent more."

Leliana fell silent, but her stoic face made clear her stance.

"Alistair, Morrigan, Sten. Please, come with me," Theron asked, turning away from us.

Without another word, they followed him and left to kill a boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Nov. 3, 2015


	15. Chapter 15

Waiting and knowing what was going on out of sight was horrible. I hated having this knowledge, knowing that there were paths that could be taken, if only it was feasible. More than anything, I wished that perfect solutions were possible, but the world wasn't nice like that.

I sat in a chair, Puppy's face in my lap, while Isolde and Teagan continued to argue, Isolde tearful and furious, Teagan apologetic, but already grieving. I tuned them out and mechanically pet Puppy's head.

From the corner of my eye I saw someone pull out a chair and sit down next to me. I snuck a glance, and, sure enough, it was Leliana. I waited for her to speak, but she remained silent. Teagan and Isolde got louder.

"You advocated for Connor's death, no?"

I looked up at Leliana, who was steadily looking at the wall and not me. This wasn't something I really wanted to talk about, but I could see Leliana needed to.

"... No, not really. Either way, someone was going to die. There are pros and cons to each death. I was just supporting Theron's choice," I explained. If anything, I would have preferred Isolde's death. She was an adult, she made this mistake to begin with; it was her responsibility.

I guess it had seemed like I would have rather Connor die, though. The ritual worked in the game, after all. This was different, though. Jowan wasn't a shining example of a mage. I didn't have faith that whatever he would do would truly work and allow Isolde's sacrifice to save Connor.

Leliana sighed heavily. "He's just a boy... So much loss in one village, and it was only because a mother wanted to protect her son." She turned her eyes on me, brows furrowed. "If you had a child, would you not do anything for them?"

"I..."

Well, I didn't really know. I had never wanted children. When I played house with other kids, I would always refuse the "mother" role. Yet, if for some reason, I did have a child... If I had to look after my sister...

"Yeah. Yeah, I would."

I would do anything for my family. Honestly, Isolde's actions weren't all too different from what mine would have been if I was faced with this situation. We were more alike than I cared to admit.

Above us, a loud, inhuman shriek pierced through the castle. Isolde took off before the Bann could stop her, rushing through the hall after Theron and the others. Teagan followed her, but stopped in the doorway, watching helplessly as she disappeared upstairs.

The room was silent, tense with anticipation. I returned to petting Puppy, trying to ignore it. I'm not sure how long we waited, but Theron soon returned. He was blood stained and ragged, the three behind him not much better.

Teagan walked past them with heavy steps, up to the room where Isolde was no doubt mourning.

Theron pulled up a chair and sat heavily next to us, and Alistair followed his example. Sten remained stoic and standing, while Morrigan leaned against the wall. I think Sten was probably the only one that didn't look hollowed by the experience. Maybe he was just hiding it better.

Shortly, a servant, a nervous elven woman, approached us. I didn't think there were any living servants left, especially not any elven ones.

"B-Bann Teagan said you are welcome t-to use the guest rooms. I w-will show you where they are."

We followed her silently. No one was eager to speak, and they had been up for over twenty-four hours by now. Even though I had gotten a bit of sleep the night before, I was exhausted as well.

We each got separate rooms. They weren't prepared, but they weren't bloodied and full of dead bodies. I was just thankful for the bed. I hadn't slept in a proper bed since I got here.

I stripped down and hopped right in. Puppy took that as an invitation and climbed up. I usually didn't like animals in my bed, but this was Puppy. No complaints.

I was near dead asleep when there was a knock at my door. I remained still for a minute, hoping it was just my imagination, but the knock sounded again. Hissing, I scrounged for my shirt and threw it on. 

I nudged open the door slightly and glared out the slit at Theron.

"Yes?"

He looked mildly abashed. "I apologize... May I take that favor from you now?"

Favor? What- Oh. For the flowers.

"Yeah, okay. What is it?" I opened the door a little wider, in case he wanted to come in.

He took my silent invitation, stepping forward. I opened the door fully and shut it behind him. I tried not the think too hard about being half-dressed.

"So? What is it?"

Theron looked to be working up his nerve, and I waited patiently. Puppy eyed us from the bed lazily.

"May I share your bed?" Theron blurted, as much as the composed elf could blurt. "For sleep. That is, for companionship in sleep."

Whatever I thought Theron would ask for a favor, this definitely wasn't it.

"... Why?" I wasn't going to bother guessing Theron's reasoning behind this. If he wanted a sleeping buddy, I thought I'd be last person he would ask. Whatever the reason, I couldn't turn him away, not if he needed comfort. Not after what happened today.

"I would rather not explain. May I? If you don't wish to share, I will leave. I do not mean to bother you."

I shook my head. "No, it's okay. I was just confused. By all means, come on in. Puppy is here too, though. Do you mind? I could probably ask him to get off."

Puppy's stare said I probably couldn't.

"It is fine." Theron began to remove his armor, setting it aside. I sat on the bed, watching, and saw his hands trembling. It was minute, but I could spot it in the way he would fumble to catch buckles and ties.

I stood, cautiously touching his shoulder.

"Hey, you okay? If you need to talk..."

Theron's lips tightened, body stiffening, but he let it go in the next second.

"Not now. I would like to sleep."

Definitely not okay. But I wasn't going to push him if he wasn't ready yet. He was too fragile right now.

I returned to the bed and shimmied under the covers. Puppy moved, plopping at the foot of the bed as Theron lay down.

He turned on his side, facing me, and we stared at each other. I noted the tired bags under his eyes, a bit of blood still on his cheek. He looked young, younger than me. Young and world-weary as hell. Sympathy welled in me.

How old was he? In this moment he looked like just a boy.

I scooted forward and, very slowly, laid an arm over him. He didn't move, so I scooted closer and closer, until his body was touching mine. His head bowed against my neck.

When my little sister had been three or four, she would nap with me like this while I read books over her.

I closed my eyes and started to fall asleep. Faintly, I could feel my neck becoming wet.

* * *

I woke up later on my back. A heavy weight rested on my chest, and my arm felt numb. There was someone...? Right, Theron. He had slept beside me last night. Poor guy. My neck felt a little crusty. My bladder ached, but I didn't want to wake Theron. He needed all the sleep he could get.

Turned out, I didn't need to worry about waking him. An insistent knocking sounded at the door, and I felt him jerk against me, startled. Through the door we could hear Alistair.

"Elizabeth, wake up! We can't find Theron," he called frantically.

I snorted, and Theron sat up. He only looked slightly better than when he went to sleep.

"Yeah, hold on, Alistair. I know where he is," I shouted back, grabbing my pants. I pulled them on, hopping a bit, and pulled the door open as I was tying them shut. 

"Lady Isolde and Bann Teagan want to talk to Theron. Where is he?" Alistair demanded, just short of scowling.

"He's here," I said simply, turning my head to glance at Theron. He was in a similar state as I was, pulling on his pants and tying them up. I knew what it looked like. My shirt was bed-worn, Theron lacked a shirt entirely, and both of us had been in the process of putting our pants on. 

Alistair's face brightened predictably, and he backed up. "Ah, okay. I'll just- I'll wait over there, shall I?"

"Sure, go ahead."

I grinned cheekily after him, and Puppy barked behind me.

Closing the door, I turned back to Theron with a yawn. "Did you hear him about the lady and the Bann?"

"I did. I assume they wish to see me alone."

I shrugged and began rearranging myself, tucking in my shirt properly, getting my other clothes on and in order.

"I guess. Are we leaving after you talk with them?"

Theron buckled his dagger belt on, but left his armor behind.

"We shall see. For now, see if there is food to be had, if you don't mind?"

"Yeah, sure." I waved him off, and he left. I wondered if I should have told him he had bed head... Ah, well, his braid held it together enough.

I stretched a bit before leaving the room as well and set out exploring. There were more people about, and some I remembered seeing in the chantry. The place looked much cleaner. The light outside was bright, but not quite noon. We must have slept through afternoon, evening, and night.

I asked around for where there was food and got directed to the kitchen. I gladly took the offered jerky, fresh bread, and cheese.

After a brief bit of gossip with the ladies cooking, I learned that they were making food for the rest of the village as well. The Arl's stores were plentiful with dried meats and other stored goods. It seemed a lot of livestock had been killed indiscriminately by the walking skeletons, and they had been running low on food by the time we had arrived. The Arlessa had given them permission to use the castle food storage as needed until the situation eased.

That was awfully kind of her. That also meant it was unlikely we would be getting horses. Damn. I think we would be lucky to get supplies too. Probably just enough to make it to another village and restock fully there.

I explored the castle further while I was waiting for Theron, mostly keeping an eye out for Morrigan. I spotted Sten in the library, reading of all things, but no Morrigan.

Eventually I gave up and joined Sten in the library.

Theron found me there, and I passed over the portion of food I had saved for him.

"We will be leaving to find a Brother Genitivi in Denerim. Arl Eamon is comatose, but remains stable, for now. Lady Isolde believes the Urn of Sacred Ashes will revive him, and this Brother knows where the urn is," he explained, chewing on the jerky.

I held in a frustrated sigh. I knew it was coming, but I didn't like it. Next to Orzammar's quests, the search for the urn was the quest I had hated most. I suppose any world wouldn't be complete without their extreme religious fanatics.

"Sounds great. Leaving in a few hours?"

"That would be best," Theron confirmed.

"Wonderful," I grumbled with heavy sarcasm. "I'll head back to the kitchen and ask about some supplies. Need me to do anything else?"

"That will be all. We will meet by the gate on the grounds."

Peachy.

I put away the book I was reading, about the geography of Ferelden, and returned to the kitchen. Like I had thought, they were kind enough to give us supplies, but only just enough to make it to the next village. I knew because the ladies told me so and gave me directions to the place.

I wouldn't remember, I was terrible with directions.

I gratefully took the sack of food they had gifted me and went to my room. I cursed as I remembered our bags were still at the chantry. Hopefully they hadn't been moved or stolen. I adjusted my staff, strapped on my back, and made a stop by the library.

As I sorted through the shelves, Puppy huffed at me disapprovingly.

"Shush, I'm not stealing, I'm borrowing," I whispered.

I had never stolen in my life, but I wasn't all that surprised that my first theft would be books.

Sten had left, and there was no one else here to catch me as I hid several books I deemed useful in the sack of food. I hoped no one would question the sharp outlines against the cloth.

By the gate, nearly everyone was there. And with our knapsacks too. Someone must have retrieved them.

While we waited on Theron, we divided the food among us. Of course, after Alistair heartily protested my book thievery.

"Those books belong to the Arl! You can't just take them!"

"Uh, yeah, I can. He's not using them. Besides, I'm not taking them permanently or anything. I'll give them back when we come by again," I said, unconcerned.

"Go put them back," Alistair hissed, pointing at the castle.

"Come on! It's just a few books! Not even important ones, just a bit of geography and history. What's it going to harm? Seriously."

Leliana, ever the mediator, stepped between us. "Knowledge is a wise pursuit, mon amie. I'm sure you mean what you say. If the books do come to harm, you promise to replace them, no?"

I didn't know how much these books cost, but it couldn't be that bad. "Sure. It's only fair," I agreed readily.

She smiled sweetly at Alistair. "You see, she means no ill by her actions. And if the books are not well kept, she has promised to replace them. While the Arl is indisposed, surely the books would be put to better use by someone eager to learn their contents."

Alistair was easily charmed by Leliana. He grumbled still, but the matter was dropped.

Theron arrived shortly after, and we left. Our brief stay in Redcliffe was over.

* * *

That night we were well away from Redcliffe, and I certainly breathed easier for it. Bodahn was where we had left him, unbothered by much. The mood of our returning group must have been clear enough for Bodahn. He remained quiet and well away from us as we set up camp. 

I trained with Morrigan before supper, intent on strengthening my control. It was so much easier to let fire blaze than it was to keep it small and tame. 

When I had worn myself out, I approached Theron. I told him quietly, "if you ever need to talk or you want a sleeping companion again, just let me know, okay? I won't ask questions if you don't want me to, and I won't judge."

He responded with a slow nod and we went our ways. I wasn't surprised when Theron didn't join me in my tent that night.

The next night he did and was gone by the time I woke up. 

Traveling to Denerim was taking us back through Lothering. I wasn't sure it would still be standing. In the game, it had simply become inaccessible. 

 We found the village the kitchen staff had directed me to, only a few days before Lothering. The people there were quiet and wary, but had enough supplies that it was no trouble for us to restock. 

Then Lothering... Was exactly as I had predicted. 

We had just seen it a couple weeks ago, and already it was razed to the ground. I could see some pyres where people must have returned to burn the dead. I couldn't tell how many there had been, but I hoped most of them made it out alive.

The village we stopped at earlier must have been saved only by the direction the darkspawn decided to travel. Even so, it wouldn't be long before they might be set upon too.

I had been practicing with Morrigan every day since Redcliffe. When we met the darkspawn again, I would have to be ready to prevent something like this from happening. That's what it meant to be a Grey Warden. Right now, there weren't enough of us around to do that job.

The next day, that training was put to use.

Just before noon, my whole body prickled, an itchy tingling sensation like bugs crawling on my skin. Alistair and Theron immediately drew their weapons, and I curled my hands, urging my magic to build. Puppy growled low with the tension of the group.

"Darkspawn?" Leliana questioned, watching Theron.

"Yeah," I confirmed as shifted my staff to my hands.

Theron crept forward, following the feeling of the 'spawn, and we spotted them in a torn up field, below the hill we had been traveling and sparsely surrounded by trees. We might have missed them if not for our darkspawn radar.

They knew we were here too; the radar went both ways, after all. But what had stopped them from coming to us, even as they snarled ferociously in our direction, were the bear traps they had been caught in.

The field was scattered, with them, liberally.

That didn't mean they were all caught, though. Several other darkspawn hissed from their places and drew their bows. One held a staff and began circling it over his head, vile green gas stirring behind it.

"Shit!" I cursed as the green gas turned into bolts of magic. We all ducked for cover.

"What are we going to do?" I asked, clinging to my staff.

"We're going to ask them if they want to have tea," Alistair drawled. 

"What a wonderful idea. You go first," I snarled. He grinned back at me viciously. 

Theron smacked us across the backs of our heads. 

"Ow!" "Hey!" 

"Be quiet. Leliana, Morrigan, and I are going to take out the archers and the mage. Be ready."

We obediently shut our mouths. 

The battle became a very careful potshot exchange. 

Beside us, Morrigan worked spell. A sphere grew in her hand, translucent, but thicker than a bubble. As soon as it reached the size of her head, she split it in two between her hands and still had enough that it looked as if it might spill over. She pressed both her palms against Leliana and Theron and the spheres grew to encase them both.

"It will protect you from the arrows, but not the magic. Go!" She explained hurriedly.

A shield ward! I wondered if it was specifically against kinetic energy, so that's why magic was exempt. Oh, what the hell did I know? I wasn't a physicist.

Morrigan tugged on me as soon as Theron and Leliana leapt from cover. "Use your fire, cover the emissary while they slay the archers."

I nodded and stood, watching Morrigan as she brandished her staff before herself. I did the same, motions delayed and clumsy, and raised my staff above my head as she did. I recognized what she was doing from our training.

Hurriedly, I moved to copy her and we brought down our staffs in a slashing motion through the air, flames gathering in a trail behind them. A roar of fire erupted, melding from our closeness, and went streaming toward the emissary. The 'spawn had no chance. He screamed, flailing as he was engulfed by the flames. The fire was too hot and hungry to let it go on for long, and the emissary crumbled in seconds. Normally, fire would take much longer to kill a person, let alone reduce them to ashes, nevertheless, the emissary was now an outline of a body in ash, more powdered than solid bits.

I grinned brightly as Alistair and Sten left cover to take care of the darkspawn still fighting in the traps.

"I fucking did it! I was useful!" I crowed, kneeling to hug Puppy.

Morrigan arched a brow at me. "... Act without direction next time and perhaps you will be."

I scowled up at her. "You gonna teach me stuff other than fire?"

She tossed a strand of hair back and put her staff away. "You have the competence to find the other elements on your own. Take the time to discover them. I do not relish having to teach a grown woman what she should already know."

I gaped at her, bewildered by this sudden attitude. "What happened to teaching me about ice and stuff? Are you mad at me? Why?"

She rolled her shoulders in a casual shrug. "I simply do not see the need to hold your hand any longer. You have the basic knowledge of understanding the elements. Now go forth and learn them." She cocked her head in dismissal. "Perhaps after that we shall see if you are competent in anything else."

She left me speechless on the ground as she rejoined the group. Where in the hell had that come from? What had I done?

I scrambled up, Puppy trailing behind.

"Okay, seriously, what's the problem?" I demanded, heated.

Morrigan sighed, pursing her lips. "I have told you already. Why do you insist on pursuing this?"

Alistair looked between us, and, predictably, hurried to walk beside Bodahn and his cart.

"Because you just dropped this out of nowhere!"

The witch remained pointedly unaffected and casual. "I do not see how else I can explain to you what has already been said. Unless you wish to prove your incompetence and continue hiding in my skirts like a child." She glanced at me, golden eyes already superior in their victory of the argument.

I bristled. "Fine. You don't want to teach, then I don't want to learn from you anyway."

I stormed to Bodahn's cart and clambered inside to sit next to Sandal.

The blond dwarf looked up at me guilelessly, smiling. "Enchantment?"

"Yeah, sure, kid. Enchantment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Jan. 29, 2016


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoys DA:I! What are your first Inquisitors? I did fem!Qunari and accidentally romanced Blackwall.

That night the air of the camp was anything but pleasant. I sat away from everyone else, trying my best to conjure some semblance of ice.

The best I had managed was cooling the temperature of the air above my hand.

Everyone heard the argument between Morrigan and me. I saw Theron talking with her when he went to bring her supper. When he returned, his brows were furrowed in frustration, and Morrigan was eating with her back to the rest of us.

I gave up messing with ice and tried some more lightning. At least that I knew how to grab at.

Traveling through the roads to Denerim was messy business. Bandits were plentiful, trying to make their living off stealing from fleeing refugees. It was bad luck that they ended up in our way. After all we dealt with, humans were easy pickings. It was desperate determination on their part that kept them from doing the smart thing and letting us pass.

I killed a few of them myself, but felt too detached to care. I wondered it it was healthy to feel so calm about killing fellow humans, but reasoned they would have killed me just as easily and without much care either. 

The occasional pack of darkspawn was also usually easy enough to deal with as well. They didn't travel in large enough groups to cause us difficulty, but the increasing number of encounters was worrying.

I was growing more and more proficient in my use of fire and lightning, if only through experience. Ice and earth, however... Not so much.

I had progressed in ice, truly, but I had yet to actually make anything bigger than a fist. Earth, for all that there was around me, was barely interested in heeding me. Honestly, I wasn't all that interested in it either, but I refused to prove Morrigan right. I would use the elements and force her acknowledgment to the fruits of my self-study.

At the very least, I felt more confident in my ability to survive. Being able to fight was a world of difference from when I had started out.

But even practicing magic can get tiresome. I settled myself beside Theron as he watched the pot for dinner tonight. Alistair was relieved to go wash off all the muck he had gotten on himself and his clothes before the sun went down too far to dry anything.

Puppy had trotted after him... Perhaps on my command to make sure nothing happen to our little bastard prince.

"How close are we to Denerim now? Please say a few days. I want a bed and a warm bath," I bemoaned exaggeratedly. "If we can afford it."

I caught a curl in the corner of Theron's lips. "Yes, a few days," he confirmed. "You shall have your bed and bath before long. How goes your training?"

"Eh. Okay, I guess. It's hard to explain," I answered, wiggling my fingers. "It's like... Hm. Well, Morrigan said magic was like my blood. But I never had it until now, not that I can remember. So it doesn't feel like blood to me. In some ways it's easier to use, but in other ways it's the most difficult thing ever."

I huffed, exaggerating my frustration with it. Theron stirred the pot slowly.

"Would you not liken it to a weapon, instead? That is what you use your magic for, is it not?" He suggested. "I was not always good at using my bow. Even now, though I might use it easily, I must still be conscious of it. Blood is not something that requires thought to fuel the body."

That... Was actually a good idea. Someone like me, who hadn't grown up with magic, was never going to feel magic as just another part of my body. Not for a very long time. Once I had realized it was there and my meditations finally worked, I had to draw it up with force, the same way when someone wanted to walk they had to force their legs to move.

"Huh. Yeah, okay," I blinked, a little stumped by the simplicity of it. "Thanks, that makes a lot of sense." I actually wanted practice now, while the idea was still fresh.

"Oh, hey, you can't read, right?" I remembered, standing. "If you want to learn, just let me know. I can pull out those books and we can use those. It's not too hard, once you know the alphabet."

He peered up at me, definitely smiling now, if a little lopsided.

"I would appreciate that, thank you."

I grinned back, proud of my accomplishment. I could count the number of times Theron had smiled with one hand.

"No problem!"

When I was called back for dinner I had finally managed some long icicles, frosting over the tips of my fingers with victory.

* * *

What the game didn't show very well was just how big Denerim was. It was the capital of Ferelden, of course it would be a big city.

But it wasn't just that. It was also a port city. A river ran right through it, spilling into the ocean. I could tell we had grown close to Denerim a day before we even reached the city because of the scent of the salt water in the air.

Which was just odd to me. Sea air meant beaches. Denerim and the surrounding area was as far from "beach" as a person could get. There were not great trees and a veritable small forest on a beach.

Nevertheless, there were more people in the city than I had seen since Ostagar, and that comforted me. It was strange, to find comfort in a crowd when before I would have been the last person to want to be around people.

Here, though, it meant no darkspawn. It meant safety from bandits at night. Oh, I'm sure there were back alley gangs and pickpockets, but I would rather face those than the people and creatures that you knew are just out to kill you.

I had been a little uncertain about bringing my staff in, so I left it with Bodahn, but Morrigan marched upright and uncaring, her homemade staff openly displayed on her back. I doubt I could ever follow her example quite so.

"Find an inn first, then we shall search for this Genitivi," Theron said, moving through the people. His nose was a bit wrinkled, distaste coloring his expression lightly.

Ah, right. Dalish. He could probably deal with us, being human, as individuals. Hell, I knew he trusted me enough to share space when he was asleep. But as a large crowd, an entire city of civilian humans? This was probably closer to a human city than he ever wanted to get.

Thankfully, the humans of the city felt similarly. They caught one glance of his tattooed face and bare feet and turned away with grimaces. Savage elf, I heard them muttering. But they didn't bother us and even opened a path in order to avoid us. Him.

"My friends, there is an inn just beyond," Leliana spoke, stepping to the front. Theron let her take the lead.

"Ah, the Gnawed Noble..." Alistair recognized it. "You think we can afford rooms here?"

Leliana smiled. "I would not have brought us to it if we would be turned away for lack of funds," she said, opening the door.

She walked up to the bartender and, sweet as you please, asked, "good ser, might you have rooms available? My companions and I have been traveling a time, and we have more to do before the day is over, but we shall be back before sun down."

The bartender raised a brow at her, then looked behind to count our heads. "Aye, I have some rooms. How many do ye want?"

"If you have rooms with two beds..."

"Nay, I only got the one room left with two. It'll be extra, that."

"Very well, that room and two others, please, ser."

She gave him the agreed amount and passed Theron and Sten keys, keeping one for herself.

Before we left, I edged forward to the bartender. "Would you happen to know where Brother Genitivi lives?"

"Genitivi? Aye, just 'cross the street, he lives!" The bartender gestured toward the door. "He's been gone a time, though. His assistant keeps the house. He might tell ye a thing or two where the brother's been."

"Thanks!"

I pattered back to the group. "You heard?"

Alistair nodded, looking about as exasperated as the rest of the group. "Tell me we're still staying in Denerim tonight," he near begged.

"We have already paid for rooms. I will not allow the man to keep our coin if we are not going to make use of them," Theron said.

Alistair visibly relaxed before tensing. "Ah, right. Theron, could I talk to you a moment?" He asked, eyes flicking from the elf to the rest of us. "In private?"

Theron's brows dipped. "... Very well. We'll meet the rest of you outside," he dismissed, nodding his head to the door.

Though Morrigan was quiet, I could see the tightening of her lips.

We shuffled outside, and I leaned against the wall of the inn while we waited. Leliana sighed wistfully as she looked out at the marketplace.

"What?" I asked, peering out as well to see if I could spot what she was looking at.

"Oh, it is the shoes," Leliana told me. "They are all so brown and practical. They are warm, certainly, but so dull."

I looked down at my own shoes, brown, practical boots. They weren't pretty or anything, but they worked.

"Yeah... That's a problem?"

Leliana laughed lightly. "Oh no, it is no problem it is just... When I was in Orlais, women would wear such extravagant shoes. They were never very practical, but they were often beautiful. Colorful and lined with gems or made of precious material." She sighed again, thinking of the shoes with longing. Maybe this was her version of homesick?

Sten grunted. "Shoes are meant for practical use. To decorate them with gems and color is a wasteful activity."

"Certainly," Leliana agreed, surprisingly, "but the nobility of Orlais like to show how they can afford such things. And they are very pretty... Sometimes a person just likes to have pretty feet, no?"

I caught Morrigan, who had been listening avidly, turn her face away. Why...? Oh! I looked down her body discreetly, noting how up until her torso she wore rather practical things of mostly black. Then she threw in a dash of purple color on her scrap of a top. Purple, which was supposed to be a very expensive dye.

She had thick, cuff-like bracelets around her wrists, but her most prized bits of jewelry were about her neck. A string of round metal pieces, a strange necklace of rectangular blocks (still shiny) at the center of which was a round jewel that connected the bra under her top. All of which shone when caught by the light.

Seeing this and remembering how her favorite gifts had been any amount of shiny jewelry, I would bet anything that she was now thinking of the shoes Leliana described with want. She would never admit it.

I grinned privately as Theron and Alistair exited the tavern. "Hey," I greeted, "all good now?"

"Yes, 'all good'," Theron repeated, the phrase awkward on his tongue. I laughed and pushed myself away from the wall.

"Okay, let's find this house. What are we going to do, just go up to doors and knock?"

Theron glanced at the houses across the road, all squished together in tight quarters. "It seems so."

I shrugged and started forward. "Door number one, then." The group hastened to catch up to me as I marched on and knocked at the door of the first house on the block. Seriously, they acted like I was going to just bang the door in.

The door opened to a man, black haired and with a scrap of a goatee under his lip. "Yes?" He asked, keeping the door open only by a crack.

"Hi," I greeted, polite and with a high, sweet voice. "We're looking for Brother Genitivi. Does he live here?"

"Genitivi? Yes, well, he used to. He's gone right now, though. Why?" The man answered, eyes shifting over us.

"It's about something private. Do you mind if we come in and talk? We've been traveling a while, we're all pretty tired."

The man hesitated, still eyeing us with uncertainty, but opened the door further. "All right. Please, come in."

We stepped in, and a strange odor hit me as soon as I stepped from the foyer to the main room. It was cloying, like strong herbs, but there was definitely something not so pleasant underneath it. I swallowed and breathed through my mouth so I wouldn't sneeze.

"Sit, please," the man offered, gesturing to the long table close to the side wall. "Now, could you tell me why you're looking for Brother Genitivi?"

I sat down, setting my hands nice and proper on my lap. "We wanted to speak to Genitivi about his research."

I knew this man was a snake, and I knew he slipped in places. I just had to make it happen.

"His research? Ah, you mean the search for Andraste's Ashes." The man nodded, remaining on his feet with crossed arms. "He was on the trail of the Urn of Sacred Ashes, yes. Whether he found it..." He sighed, looking down. "The Maker only knows. I haven't seen Brother Genitivi in weeks. He's sent no word; it's so unlike him."

He started pacing. "I'm afraid something has happened. Genitivi's research into the Urn may have led him to danger."

I brightened. "Maybe he's found it, then. He is a researcher, I know what it's like to get caught up in something and just forget to do anything else." I laughed, friendly, knowing. "I bet he forgets to eat sometimes, doesn't he?"

The man gave a strained smile. "Yes, I suppose he does. But even so, why would he not have returned or sent a message? I-I tried to send help, but some knights from Redcliffe came looking for him not long ago. I sent them after Brother Genitivi and they, too, have disappeared."

"Oh? Where did they go?"

He shook his head firmly, brows down. "No, don't ask me where they went. You'll go after them, and what if ill-luck should befall you too? This search is a curse, on all of us. Some things are not meant to be found. I know that now."

I looked at him, portraying sympathy of his plight. "I'm very sorry... But we have to risk it. Please, tell me where he went."

He looked at me, eyes searching. Stalling. Then he sighed, turning away. "So be it. All he said before he left was that he would be staying at an inn near Lake Calenhad, investigating something in that area."

"'Something'? What exactly was it he was investigating?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "All I discovered from going through his research notes was that he was staying at the inn."

The slip! That's it! I jumped on it, smiling sharply. "But you just said he spoke to you and told you that," I said rapidly.

The man startled back, dropping his arms. "I- y-yes, of course he told me, but I also went through his things to see if I could find other clues to his whereabouts."

I was practically purring as I stood. I might have been shorter than him, but I felt bigger. "You sound nervous. You aren't hiding anything, are you?"

I heard a chair scrape behind me.

"I know it sounds suspicious," the man said, backing up further, "but I swear, I'm not lying."

"You know, I never got your name. Who are you?" I asked, preparing to call up my magic.

"Jo- I mean, Weylon! I'm Brother Genitivi's assistant, Weylon!"

That was definitely a blatant lie and I knew everyone else heard it too. Behind me, Sten rumbled and more chairs scraped.

"You are lying. Tell us where the Brother Genitivi is now."

The false Weylon swore. "Never! You will never have the Urn of Sacred Ashes!"

He pressed his hands together then threw them out, a burst of fire hurled toward me.

I yelped, throwing up my hands. My own fire shielded me, and the collision of the two exploded, sending me on my back.

While I gasped on the floor, Alistair shouted, drawing his sword. He thrust his hand forward and the man's magic flickered and failed just before his head was removed with a sweep of Alistair's sword.

My own magic felt numbed by proximity of Alistair's smite, but I could feel it curled inside me, at least. I pushed myself up and observed the carnage. 

"Well... That was quick," I remarked.

Theron looked at me, weary. "Look for Genitivi's notes."

We began searching the house and Alistair was the one to find the body of the real Weylon in what I assumed was either his or Genitivi's room. His body was hastily covered in a blanket, topped with a fragrant bunch of herbs. It had been here long enough to start smelling.

No wonder; it would be hard to get a body out of this place. It was on the corner of a busy street rather close to the marketplace. Even at night there would be some eyes.

I looked through the papers on the desk, stepping around an overturned chair, and passed some to Leliana to help read through them.

"Ah, here," Leliana said after a minute, passing me a sheaf of paper. It looked like it had been ripped from a journal because it started in the middle of a sentence.

_"... and evidence points to Haven for clues about the Urn of Sacred Ashes, in the north of the Frostback Mountains. They are a reclusive village, it would seem, and unwelcoming to travelers. I will hope that-"_

Yeah, there it is. Frostback was not an optimistic name.

"I guess we're going there," I grumbled, folding the paper.

"Where?" Theron asked, Alistair impatient at his back.

"Frostback Mountains. The north of it has some village named Haven that Genitivi thinks has clues. We need warmer clothes."

I was already shivering to think of the climate. I usually liked cold weather, but cold weather in the mountains? Without modern insulated clothing? It wasn't going to be fun, to put it lightly. Good thing we were already in Denerim. If anywhere was going to have some good, warm clothing, it would be here.

* * *

We left Genitivi's home and informed the guard of what had taken place. Without telling them the bit about magic on our part, of course.

Alistair and Theron left to take care of business while the rest of us procured some cold weather clothing. Well, Leliana, Sten, and I did. Morrigan disappeared shortly after the other two did.

I amused myself watching Leliana haggle like a demon with the face of an angel and the voice of someone doing you a favor by lowering your prices. I set aside some coins to get something for Morrigan.

I wasn't sure why she had suddenly turned cold to me, but a peace offering couldn't go wrong.

"We're going back to the tavern. Will you come with us?" Leliana asked, watching me eye the jewelry of the next stall over.

"Uh, yeah, in a second. You go ahead," I told her absently, stepping over.

She chuckled and left, Sten following silently. Puppy whined up at me curiously.

"Shush, I'm going to get something for Morrigan," I hushed him. He whuffed and sat at my feet. The merchant waved to a successful customer as they departed and turned his attention on me.

"What are you looking for, my dear? A piece for a lover? A friend? I daresay I have a little for everyone."

I hummed. "A friend, I think. She's mad at me for some reason. She likes shiny things."

The merchant laughed. "Well, there is no little supply of shining objects here. Does she have a liking for anything more specific, my dear?"

I thought of Morrigan. With how she had lived, only sneaking into villages occasionally, I doubted she had much chance to really see good jewelry. I wondered where she even got the ones she had from.

"Maybe something with designs on it? Engraved?"

"Ah, I have several pieces like that, yes," the man said, happily procuring a few new bits of jewelry from his wares. He set them out in front of me, a few rings, a necklace, and a bracelet or two.

"The rings come from a wonderful craftswoman in Amaranthe. She makes fine rings of the best silver. The necklace is of dwarven make. See the geometric designs of it? The stones embedded are greenstone, cut and polished to perfection. The bracelets are of strong iron with simple, but quite lovely engravings, if I say so myself," he displayed proudly.

They were all pretty pieces. I would bet either the rings or the stone studded necklace would be the most expensive. Morrigan already had bracelets, but these ones were thinner than her cuffs, so she could wear them easily.

I carefully picked up a ring to examine the design of it. It was swirling, with what appeared to be waves. Amaranthe was on the coast, wasn't it?

I set it down and looked critically over the other pieces. She already had a necklace with a gem in it that was green, though brighter than those dark green ones... But would she appreciate a ring? No, I could remember that most of the gifts she liked had been necklaces.

"How much is the necklace?"

"My dear, that one I would part with for no less than two gold pieces."

Two gold? I narrowed my eyes and tried out what I had learned from Leliana's bargaining.

"This might be dwarven make, but I doubt you got it all the way from Orzammar. And greenstones are pretty, but common. One gold."

He gasped in mock affront. "My dear, not matter where it came from, the craftsmanship is a marvel and the stones of the highest quality. A gold and seventy silver."

I psh'ed, and waved a hand. "High quality they might be, they're still common materials. It's only the craftsman who made it that does it justice. One gold and thirty."

"One and fifty," he sniffed.

"One and twenty. Keep messing around and I'll go lower."

He scowled at me and my strange haggling. "... One and forty. No lower."

"How about... One and forty and I'll have this little necklace here too." I pointed to a short and simple necklace of silver chains.

"My dear, that necklace alone is worth at least fifty silver."

"And this necklace here is worth ninety. What a funny coincidence, yeah?" I grinned, trying to bring back our friendly little merchant-customer rapport.

He pursed his lips. "A gold and fifty silver, and you may have the necklaces."

I hope this was a score. "Deal."

We shook on it, and I handed over my coins. All I was left with now was some coppers and a few silver. But I was two gifts richer.

I hoped Theron didn't mind my expenses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: Jan. 29, 2016


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are a reader who has been following my story, please go back and re-read previous chapters. I have gone through a big editing overhaul, and there are many new things to read. 
> 
> I also had a [commission](http://sassygaywardens.tumblr.com/post/114874339812/bw-commission-for-hystericalmirth-of-their) piece done of Theron, Zevran, and Elizabeth, by sassygaywardens. It's so wonderful and I love it. Thank you so much!

Jewelry stashed in my pocket, I returned to the tavern. Of our group, only Leliana and Sten were present at a table. Leliana appeared to be engaging him in conversation, but it was clear, even from a distance, that it was one-sided. 

I joined them, sliding into a seat beside Leliana. She paused in her sentence, diverting her attention to me.

"You found the gifts you were looking for?" She questioned slyly. Of course, she would know what I was doing.

I cleared my throat mildly. "Yes, thank you. Not that I can give them to Morrigan if she keeps avoiding me."

Leliana pursed her lips, a slim finger tapping the table. "What was it that angered her so? You had appeared to be rather friendly until then."

Sighing, I leaned back and crossed my arms. "Hell if I know. But I messed up somehow, right? Maybe giving her with pretty things will at least get me a few moments of her time."

She chuckled lightly, placing a hand on my arm. "Mon amie, perhaps I may give you some tips on how to treat a scorned woman?" 

I eyed her narrowly. "You make it sound like a lover's spat..." Leliana, the romantic. It was cute when she wasn't interfering with my relationships. All of which were platonic, thank you. 

"But she behaves jealously, no? You have been sharing a tent with Theron, on occasion," she suggested. Sten quietly got up and walked away toward the inn bedrooms. 

"Now, look at that," I gestured after Sten. "You've run him off." 

She giggled lightly, trailing her hand down to mine. I watched in suspicion, glancing between her circling fingers and her face. My ears were getting distinctly warmer, try as I might to stop it. 

"Poor Sten. But I would like to speak to you alone, so his absence does present an opportunity for me," she murmured, tilting her head prettily. 

I'm not exactly sure what her angle was, but my brain was starting to misfire. The burning in my ears steadily spread to my cheeks. 

"What, ah," I croaked, then cleared my throat. "What did you want to talk about?" 

"At Genitivi's you were certainly quick to suspect the impostor. It was rather clever of you," she spoke, lightly and close to my ear. I hadn't noticed her lean in, but her body's warmth and proximity was entirely too close for me to think straight. "How did you know?"

I swallowed dryly. "Th-The smell. I couldn't breathe through my nose. It was gross." Pretty women might leave me as a puddle, but my brain wasn't quite that overheated. 

"It was, wasn't it? That was enough to rouse your suspicion, mon amie?" 

Oh, my god. I could feel her breathing on my neck. "W-Well, he was acting shifty, you know? You were there. You saw him," I answered rapidly, voice high. Shit, I wasn't a virgin, but I certainly wasn't experienced enough to resist this. I knew exactly what was going on, this seduction, but she knew just how to play me. Clearly I hadn't been subtle enough in admiring her body. 

Leliana laughed, finally pulling away. My lungs filled with air as if I had not breathed that entire time. I desperately needed some privacy. 

"You are correct. How sharp of you," she said, smiling guilelessly. 

I scooted away, glaring hotly as my body cooled. "That was uncalled for." 

Her smiled became wicked as she leaned in close again. I leaned further back in response, my cheeks easily reheating. "You were a little _too_ sharp, ma chère. You are not the only one who can deduce from observations... But most are trained to do so." 

"I'm not- You think I'm a spy," I realized, nonplussed.

Leliana hummed lightly. "But you are not. A trained spy would not have folded so easily. You are weak against a pretty woman, no? It explains why there is a lack of noise when Theron shares your bed."

My shoulder drooped in exasperation. "He's a friend, not a-a lover or something. Of course I wouldn't have sex with him. Not unless he asked first." I scowled at her as she perked visibly. "Which he hasn't!" 

"Oh, but if he did? You would be interested, would you not? He is so lovely and exotic," Leliana purred in admiration.

I sputtered, baffled by the change from experienced seductress to bubbly romantic. "Wha- I don't know! Geez! Why don't you go after him, then?"

The woman sighed, wilting. "He has so little interest. You have noticed that we barely speak, surely. You and Alistair are his primary confidants. Ah, speaking of..."

She peered over my shoulder, and I turned to see Alistair and Theron walking through the door. It was Alistair's face that gave me pause in greeting them. 

When we had traveled shortly after leaving Flemeth's hut, Duncan had died just the night before. Alistair barely spoke, and his expression was not unlike the one he wore now. His body curled inward, smaller than his natural frame and posture. His normally open face was closed like a shutter and dull from the light of his eyes to the line of his lips. 

Leliana and I were quiet as the pair approached, seating themselves opposite us at the table. 

Silently, I glanced at Theron. He met my eyes and subtly shook his head. I nodded and stood, pushing my chair back. "Is anyone hungry? I'm hungry. I'll go grab something from that, uh, the lady. With the food." 

Smooth. 

The barmaid was expertly drifting through people, nary a nudge to anyone around her in the growing dinner crowd, and I was definitely no expert. After the second jostle, my eye caught a purple snag, topped with black. Morrigan stood near a corner, nursing a drink by the fire at the far side of the room. 

If she saw me, she would disappear just like she had this afternoon. I dodged between the throngs of people, got an elbow in my chest for my trouble, and ended up near Morrigan with a wheeze, rubbing my sternum.

"H-Hey..." I greeted, shuffling closer to avoid the people behind me. In my pocket, the jewelry I had acquired began to burn tauntingly. 

Morrigan lifted a brow, golden eyes unamused. I coughed and dropped my hand. Perhaps a plan of attack would have been wise. 

"I... I wanted to talk to you. About what happened," I explained awkwardly. Morrigan took a sip and remained silent. 

I shifted on my feet as I pushed onward. "You were obviously mad about something, and I would like to apologize for whatever I did, make it right and all. But, thing is, I don't know what I did. If you could let me know, I swear, I won't do it again. But I just- I need to know what it was." 

For a long, uncomfortable moment, Morrigan stared at me, half her face obscured by her drink. Newly formed sweat of anxiety dripped down my spine. 

I started as Morrigan moved, setting her drink aside. "Even should I reveal what you have done to draw my ire, it is not something you can swear to not do again, for you will not be able to keep that oath," she murmured, voice just loud enough for me to hear. 

"I'm still sorry. Whatever it was, I didn't intend-"

"I know it was unintentional, and that is what frustrates me so," Morrigan interrupted, lips twisting. "Everything about you was never meant to be, and yet you-" She stopped herself, a hiss of unsaid words escaping through her teeth. 

"What?" I demanded, stepping forward with a jerk. "What do you mean by that, I was never meant to be?" My words nearly tripped on my tongue from the speed at which I spoke. My heart throbbed, echoing through my body. What did she know?

Morrigan leaned back, using what height she had on me to loom. "I do not believe in your lies, that you have lost knowledge and memories through amnesia, yet there is no refuting that you are truly a novice in magic. A novice with barely more than a month's worth of training, but you..." Her mouth curled, baring her teeth. "Even in your fumbling, you grow in strides that should not be possible! I was years in training before I used my magic with the power which you use yours!" 

Jealousy. Petty jealousy. From Morrigan. 

In what world would I have ever thought it would be possible that Morrigan herself would find a way to be jealous of someone like me? Yet... Morrigan was young. Hadn't she mentioned I even appeared older than her, if not her age? She was an only child, practically sheltered from the world. She had little to no real experience with other people aside from observation. 

I stared at her, head tilted back slightly to meet her eyes. "How old are you?" 

She blinked, taken-aback. "I... Nineteen." 

Nineteen! No, we were most certainly not the same age, and that was the biggest factor between us. But she was more than just intelligent, and if anyone here that I confide in and trust to keep my secrets, it was Morrigan. 

Slowly, I sighed, and crossed my arms. "I'm twenty-three, and you're right. I'm not amnesiac. The truth is, I have not a damned clue what has happened to me, and you have zero reason to be jealous." I reached into my pouch as she flustered and fished out the necklaces I had bought. I extended my hand, and when she uncertainly reached out, I dropped them in her palm. 

"Those are for you, because I'm sorry that you feel the way you do. The only thing I have that you don't is life experience. You started learning magic as a child, you have so much more knowledge in that than I do. That's why _you're_ teaching _me_. The difference about us, and our learning curves, is that an adult understands concepts faster than a child does. Or, at least, this adult does," I shrugged, stepping back. "Whatever you think it is about me that is so much better, you're wrong. So stop it." 

Let her chew on that. I turned to leave, and a hand paused in the corner of my vision. I stopped and looked back, Morrigan's pale hand lowering. 

"I have questions about your lies... But I can wait. If you will answer them," she said, cheeks faintly pink, eyes struggling to maintain a gaze with mine. 

I struggled not to outright grin. "Yeah, I'll answer them. Will you teach me again?" 

She nodded, once and firmly. "I will."

"Thanks." 

I walked away, trying to spy the barmaid again. When I returned to the table with a tray of food for four, I fancied that I saw Morrigan admiring loops of metal in her hands, fire glancing off it to make it shine. 

* * *

 Come late evening, I was not of mind to be outside or socializing any longer. Alistair had remained quiet through the rest of the early hours, eventually retiring to his room with Sten. I did the same shortly after, gratefully taking the key to our room from Theron. 

It was definitely bath time. 

From the game I could remember the tubs were raised, square shapes, but that was the extent of my knowledge. Was there plumbing? Would I need to call for a maid to drag water into the tub? Would the water even be warm? It wasn't as though I could ask Theron for help, I doubt he had ever been far enough into a human city that he ever saw a tub. 

Lo and behold, the tub in the room was as I remember, a raised, square basin large enough for a single person. There was a little drain at the bottom, denoting some kind of plumbing, but I saw no way that the water would get into the tub or be warmed. How...? 

I sighed, chest thick with irrational frustration, and opened the door to find a maid, only to check myself before I nearly ran into a wide chest. 

"Uh..." I looked up into Alistair's face, his fist raised and equally surprised. 

"Sorry, I just... Can I talk to you?" Alistair requested, lowering his hand awkwardly. 

So much for bathing. "Yeah, sure," I agreed, stepping aside for him. "What is it?" 

Alistair, poor man, looked conflicted about speaking up now that he was in my room. When he did, it was through reluctant teeth. "You... Have siblings. That you care for."

"I do." Siblings, huh? He had asked Theron to see Goldana earlier, and they had gone for a visit. Predictably, she had not reacted well to his presence. 

"When you fight... How do you make up?" He shuffled in place, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

Oh, Alistair... 

"Alistair, hun, what happened?" I asked, knowing full well what he would tell me. 

"H-Hun?" He echoed, his cheeks flushing with light color. "I..." He coughed, clearly beating away his embarrassment. "I have a sister here, in Denerim. I saw her today. She didn't know I existed, but I knew about her, and I just wanted... I don't know," he groaned softly, his grief creeping on him. "She didn't take it well. She hates me."

Though Alistair and I weren't exactly pals, I deeply understood his feelings. My brother and I had always been at ends, and I was the elder by two years. Several times I had hurt him badly enough to send him crying to our mother, asking why I hated him. I didn't like my brother, but I did love him. Goldana, however, was not me, and she certainly didn't have the kind of relationship with Alistair that I had with my brother. 

 "She doesn't know you, and I don't think she cares to know you either. That's her loss," I told Alistair, even as he flinched. "People are selfish and horrible sometimes, even to their own family." I laid a hand on Alistair's arm, and he lifted his eyes from the floor. "But being family doesn't mean having the same blood. No one asks to be born to the people who make them. Just because some man contributed his sperm and some woman gave birth to you doesn't make them your parents any more than your sister is your sister because she shares your parentage. Do you understand?" 

He nodded shakily, face solemn. I let my hand slip from his arm and smiled. 

"I know I always tease you, and it can be a little mean-"

"A little?"

"- Shut up. I tease you the same way I tease my brother, okay? Because you kind of remind me of him. You're both stupid tall and ridiculous."

The blond warden's mouth dropped open, his body stiff and spine shocked straight. "I, ah... Hahaha, right," he laughed belatedly, at a loss of how to respond. I gusted a sigh and punched his gut. He stumbled back with an exaggerated "ooph", but his face had brightened immensely. 

"Now go to bed," I commanded, pointing to the door. "I have a- Oh, right! Alistair?"

"Ye-es?" He drawled, long and cautious. 

"How does the bath work?"


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I lied about the romance, but honestly, romance is not really the biggest part of this, and the tags truly mean Slow Burn when they say Slow Burn. Tags will update as necessary as chapters progress. 
> 
> If anyone has any questions about Elizabeth's sexuality, I'll be happy to answer them.

Warm water rippled around me, slightly opaque with soap. It was no long tub to lay in, but it was deep enough to lean back and soak with my shoulders below water. My head lolled back against the stone, eyes closed and muscles slack.

The door creaked briefly as it opened, and rolled my head up, prying my eyes open to spot Theron as he entered the room.  

I made no motion to cover up, and he didn’t so much as bat an eye as he began removing his leathers.

“Would you like a turn?” I offered slowly, reluctant to leave the warmth of the tub.

“Is that a suggestion?” He asked, setting aside his armor. I pursed my lips consideringly.

“Yes. After all the time we’ve spent on the road, sleeping in our own sweat and grime, it’s a very strong suggestion,” I responded, sitting up from my lounge. “Tub’s not big enough for us both, though.”

I pushed myself up and out, water splashing, and grabbed a towel. As I turned, Theron didn’t quite manage to look away before I saw him. Pointedly, I shimmied as I ran the towel behind my back. His neck nearly snapped at the speed he pulled his whole face away, and he determinedly pulled his shirt off, wincing when it caught on his ear.

“Hey, you can look,” I told him, grinning mildly as I thought back to Leliana’s words. “Just ask before you touch.”

Theron’s face flushed red, and I was suddenly aware that this elf I had been sharing a bed with was devastatingly pretty. His face was stern, but his lips were just the right shape, plump on the bottom and thin on the top. I had always found his eyes a beautiful color, a warm grey. But it was his blush and the look of uncertainty that had my stomach fluttering with more than just the pleasure of finding someone aesthetically pleasing.

I coughed, ignoring my own warming cheeks, and dried my hair vigorously. It was mere coincidence that the towel covered my face as I did so.

He remained suspiciously silent as he removed his clothes, and, I admit, I watched him as he climbed into the tub. His body was pale all over, but I could see his arms were beginning to freckle, just as mine did when exposed to the sun. As an archer his arms and back were muscled with clear definition, but I was more interested in the tight glutes a little lower.

Before he turned around, I did so myself, dropping my towel as I made a beeline for my clothes. I pulled on my underwear and the least dirty of my shirts before fishing out a book and diving into the bed.

The words were clear before me, but all I could think of was how Leliana had purred about Theron’s lovely visage and how exotic he was. I would definitely agree that he was lovely. He was so lovely that I read the same line three times as I listened to the sounds of him bathing out of sight.

I swallowed down the saliva building in my throat. It was always like this.

A friend or acquaintance would mention how physically appealing they found someone I had known for a time. Then I would be careless and tease or flirt with them, all in good, friendly spirit. Before I knew it, platonic affection became romantic, and I would make a fool of myself.

I could ignore this. What I felt wasn’t more than lust.  

Theron was meant for someone else, someone who deserved his love and affection. Honestly, it was my hope that one of the party did find love with him. Knowing everything that would happen, love would be his spark of light in all this madness. I wasn’t about to sully it.

My vision blurred, and I nodded off for a second time. Absently, I set my book aside on the bedtable and tucked further into the thick bedding. Sleep. I would go to sleep and resolve myself in the morning.

My mind wandered drowsily, body melting with my consciousness. At some point, I stirred as I felt a shift in the mattress. A soft voice hushed me as I murmured in question, a warm body molding against my back.

I sighed and let myself continue to drift until I was dreaming.

 

* * *

 

“Being active this early is criminal,” I groused, kicking at the dirt of the road out of the city.

There was no one more unhappy to have left the soft beds of the inn behind than me. I had woken up, disoriented, and almost called out for my mother. Who wasn’t here and never would be here. It was enough to send me burrowing back into the covers, hiding my face in a pillow and hoping it smothered me.

Theron, who had woken earlier than I had, came to the room with little sympathy and dragged me from bed for breakfast. No sooner than the last bite was gone, we were up and out once more.

“We are always up at this time,” Sten pointed out needlessly.

“Yeah, but it’s different sometimes,” I muttered. “Like when you had a nice, warm bed and soft covers, and good dreams.”

Leliana sighed wistfully. “If it were only so all nights, no?”

Puppy barked, loud and booming, as he tore off ahead of us. A familiar wagon rolled on, pulled by a placid bull I still had no name for.

In the front, Bodahn laughed and called out to us. Sandal copied his waving hand with a blank smile.

“Hello there! We got on the road for an early start. I thought you might catch up with us,” He said. “Where are you off to now, Wardens? I’m sure my boy and I can follow part of the way, at the least.”

“The Frostback Mountains. There is a village we need to visit.” Theron answered.

It sounded so peaceful when he put it that way. Just a visit, popping in, getting out, no harm at all. I didn’t want to think about that place. Especially not about the dragon it was harboring.

“My! That’s a bit of a ways off. But if you stay on the main road, you’ll be passing along the coast toward Lake Calenhad. Staying as far north as you can seems to be the right idea, with the darkspawn in the south. If that’s where you intend to go, we might stay together as far as the lake,” Bodahn told us.

“Lake Calenhad…” Theron murmured. He looked to Alistair, lips pursed. “On the map, where are the mages?”

“Their tower is in- Right! The lake!” Alistair exclaimed. “Will we stop by the tower to request aid?”

Theron hummed an affirmation, falling silent.

My blood ran slow, a chill in my veins. The Ferelden Circle… The gore had been easy to view as graphics on a screen. The abominations and demons were par for the course, just like any other video game. Admittedly, the fleshy growth on the walls had been disgusting, but it was all to set the mood. The developers had done a good job.

It’s not a game, though.

There was nowhere to leave me behind once we reached the tower. I couldn’t stay with the traumatized templars on the ground floor.

“Elizabeth?”

A faint voice fell in my ear. Then a hard push, and I stumbled into my next step, gasping.

“What the he-!”

Morrigan eyed me blandly, the butt of her staff extended and coated in frost. Behind me, among the footsteps were frozen treads, icicles extending upward at a curve, as if following someone. Me.

I cursed, looking down at my body. Frost was steadily melting on my clothes and armor, the melt sinking in. I would be damp for a while.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, tugging at my trousers. A hand fell on my shoulder, and I jerked. Theron’s hand tightened, eyes dark.

“You are a warden,” he said firmly. “We are few, but they will not have you. Not while I am here.”

Beyond him, Alistair stood, brows drawn in worry. Leliana was much the same, concern etched in the clench of her fists.

To be held in the Circle hadn’t been my biggest fear, but it wasn’t as though I would tell them the truth any time soon. There was nothing that could be done, not as I was. Call me a cowardly bystander, but I was going to take the lie he was giving me.

Meekly, I smiled at them all, skin crawling with guilt where Theron held my shoulder captive. “Thank you,” I whispered and turned away.

From that point until the sun faded, the drop of cold inside me refused to melt, long after my clothes dried.

When Leliana talked, I smiled and responded. Alistair bantered, Morrigan sneered, Sten remained silent, but grumbly. Avoiding Theron’s eyes was hardest, but so long as I did, I could keep playing at normal.

I was under no misconceptions that no one noticed it, but they politely played along.

Almost everyone.

I helped make a fire, easily enough extending a hand to the wood. Flames burst from my skin, and I wanly smiled. Practice makes perfect.

“Elizabeth.”

I looked up from my crouch, and Morrigan cocked her head toward an expanse of trees. They were far enough from the campsite that anyone listening in would have to have blatantly followed us.

With a sigh, I got to my feet and followed the witch in the plum shadow of the setting sun.

“What do you want to know, Morrigan?” My voice was shallow, and I knew I sounded vulnerable.

“How did you come to the wardens? I know only that you traveled with Theron, but were not skilled enough to join them in the Wilds. Theron will not expound upon your history, or his, for that matter, beyond your arrival at Ostagar.”

Morrigan leaned against a tree as she spoke, arms crossed, but chin up. I rubbed at my neck, picking at the fine hairs at the base of my hairline.

“I… Won’t share Theron’s side of things, but I honestly don’t remember much. Not of that event in particular. I’m told there was a tainted mirror in a cave that infected Theron, then me. I’m not saying I remember nothing of my life before that,” I went on hastily as Morrigan’s eyes narrowed, “but I don’t remember how I got there. Duncan found me, saved me from the darkspawn that had taken up in the cave. I spent the next few days, however long it was, being cared for by Theron’s Keeper and her First. By then they had gone back to the cave and destroyed the mirror.”

Morrigan’s lips thinned. “Destroyed it?”

“Well, yes. It was tainted and, as far as they could tell, was likely the cause of the darkspawn. But… If they came from the mirror, and I came from the mirror… Where was I before then?”

Honestly, the last thing I remembered was… “I was at home. I woke up, had breakfast. My friend, Ashley, was…”

“Was?” Morrigan prompted, impatient with my pause.

“I don’t know.” I shook my head, pressing the heel of my palm between my brows. “She… Wanted to go somewhere. I think I went with her.” A museum? An art gallery? Halls and rooms, walls sterile white, flashes of color in the sculptures on pedestals and framed works of beauty that hung upon the walls, untouchable.

I hissed, pain bursting in a ring about my head. “I don’t know!” I yelped, throwing myself away from Morrigan.

She flew after me, grasping for my arms. I jerked back, crackling with energy, and tumbled over my feet onto the ground. I landed hard on my back, air wheezing from my lungs. A jolt of electricity burst around me, and, distantly, Morrigan cried out. I continued to gasp out that singular phrase, “I don’t know,” even as I struggled to breathe.

Suddenly, Leliana was all I could see, reaching out with gloved hands. She stilled my flailing arms, placed a hand on my chest. “Mon amie, shush. Elizabeth, feel my hand, breathe. It’s all right. You don’t have to know.”

She spoke softly over my frantic chant and took my hand. She pressed it to her own chest, her heart thrumming and strong. “Breathe with me,” she urged, and took in an exaggerated breath.

I copied her, air shaking down my throat. She held her chest still, then sighed out in a steady stream. I did the same, gusting out my exhale. Again, she inhaled long and slow, and I followed her motions. 

The beat of her heart became my focus. The stream of hot tears on my cheeks was carefully erased with a swipe of her thumb. Leliana smiled and took my grasping hand to help me sit. 

Theron sat on his heels before me, Alistair beside him and standing, half his armor off.

“Do you want to talk?” Theron asked, as steady as he was cautious. I swallowed and looked at the ground.

The elf shook his head minutely. “You don’t have to. Come.” He stood, leaning down to take me by the hand. I got up, but he didn’t withdraw.

Slowly, flanked by Leliana and Alistair, we returned to the main camp. Sten looked on in disapproval, before settling down in the grass.

Puppy slipped against me, whining quietly as he nosed my stomach. I scratched his ears with my free hand, then slipped my other out of Theron’s to stroke the coarse hair of Puppy’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, to both dog and elf.

Theron stood beside me, unmoved. “Who holds you?”

I stilled, turning my head just enough to meet his eyes. “What?”

“When I asked you to hold me, because I was weak, you held me. You still do, though you are not my clan, and you never ask me why. I am- I was a stranger. Why did you hold me?”

Oh.

I swallowed the tickle in my throat and resumed the calming motions of petting Puppy.

“Because… You needed it. You came to me, out of everyone, and you asked me. Even if I might have rejected you, you trusted me enough to ask in the first place.”

I paused to breathe, collect my thoughts, and pushed on.

“I don’t have anyone. You don’t either, but you’re so strong and capable. You’re allowed to have those moments of weakness, where you need someone to hold you so you can get back up. And I- I’m always weak. I don’t have ‘moments of weakness’, it’s what I am. If someone is always holding me, then how am I supposed to be strong?”

Theron’s steadily deepening frown of protest smoothed. “Ah,” he sighed, leaning his head back. “You are under the assumption that I would not ask a person of strength to guard me as I slept?”

I sputtered. “No! I mean, I- Damn it, Theron.” I scrubbed my face with hands that now smelled of mabari.

His lips quirked, and my face flamed when I spotted it.

“Shut up!” I demanded. “How can you possibly think that I’m someone who can take care of someone like you? I’m nothing but a liability! That’s- That’s like asking a bird to carry a bull!”

“Yet birds do fly and perch on bulls when they need a moment’s rest,” he corrected smugly. “A creature that can take flight is remarkable, don’t you think? Ravens are exceptionally intelligent.” 

I screeched wordlessly and shoved him. “Fine! Fuck! Whatever!”

As I stormed away, Puppy at my heels, unfamiliar laughter in a familiar voice echoed behind me.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to refectory who bookmarked and put in the bookmark summary that Mahariel/Theron was a good character, because that basically fueled me to finish this chapter within the past two days. Thank you so much, I appreciate it ;v;/

I woke up in the early morning, dawn not yet creeping on the horizon. Morrigan knelt, the flap of my tent raised, a small campfire at her back. Her golden eyes appeared to gleam as she watched me stretch out my sleepiness. I stopped just short of elbowing the warm body curled behind me when Theron stirred in protest of my wakefulness. When I didn’t move again, he fell back asleep, arm shifting over my waist.

 

Morrigan’s lips twitched in amusement and she huffed, gesturing for me to move along. The tent flap closed and I was left in the dark again, eyes adjusting.

 

My stomach growled unhappily as I sat up, extracting myself from Theron’s hold. Ah… When I had marched off, I went straight to setting up the tent and hid myself within. I had completely slept through dinner.

 

With Alistair’s and Theron’s appetites, I would be lucky to find leftovers, let alone enough to satisfy my own voracity.

 

I dragged my armor out with me, tying and buckling it on with great yawns. Morrigan remained by the fire, legs curled beneath her.

 

“You can go to sleep,” I said as I sat down, fiddling with one last buckle. “I’ve got watch for the rest of the night, morning, however you call it.”

 

I pulled the stew pot over, felt something slosh within, and lifted the lid. Ah ha! It would probably be enough to tide me over until breakfast.

 

“I want to apologize,” Morrigan spoke quickly to my turned back.

 

“... For last night?” I asked, setting the pot up.

 

She gave a short nod. “I did not realize what I was asking of you, and that it was, or is still, blocked to such an extent in your mind that it causes you pain. I will be more careful.”

 

I hummed, stirring the warming stew. “I didn’t have much warning either. It wasn’t something you meant to do, so there’s no need to apologize. It’s just so strange.” I mused, poking at bits of meat.

 

“Strange in what way?”

 

“Mostly because I never thought about it before,” I confessed, glancing at Morrigan. “You would think a normal person, they wake up in a foreign place, they would wonder how they got there. They would try to find out. But me, I never did; not until you asked me about it. Even now, I just… The desire to figure out what happened to me keeps slipping away. I should be more concerned about this, but I can’t work up the energy over it.”

 

I shrugged, a casual motion that only emphasized my revelation. “I’m not usually the kind of person to let go so easily. I like knowing the why behind the what. But I can’t…” I sighed heavily, “I just don’t care.”

 

Morrigan’s face drained of color, pale skin even more so as she processed what I told her. Objectively, I realized that if someone had told this to me, I would be beyond worried. This was some kind of mind control, something only achieved through blood magic. It was proof I was pulled into Thedas by an outside force. Yet, I wasn’t even bothering to pursue it because I simply couldn’t bring up the will to do so. It was a numbing cloud that dulled all emotion, glossing over anything that stemmed from the truth, or seeking the truth, of my origins into Thedas.

 

“That is… Unnatural. Someone has tampered with your mind,” she murmured in a solemn hush as she reached the same conclusion. “Could they have removed any memory you have of learning magic? Such a thing would be incredibly delicate work. It shouldn’t be possible.”

 

I shook my head and removed a bowl and spoon from my pack. “No, I’ve never had magic. I know that for sure. I do have some knowledge of how magic works, demons and spirits, a bit of the fade, but I’ve never been able to throw fire around.”

 

“Where did you gain that knowledge?”

 

“I read about it,” I grinned. I wasn’t _exactly_ lying, but it was close. “You can learn a lot from just reading.”

 

Morrigan raised a brow at me. “Reading books that would not be seen outside of a Circle… Or Tevinter?”

 

I raised a brow in return. “Who says mages have monopoly? It’s silly, honestly. If the common person was more educated, then there wouldn’t be this fear of unknown magic and mages. I’m not going to hold Tevinter in regard or anything, but you don’t see them falling over themselves, covered in abominations, demons, and blood magic. They have a system of government ruled by mages, even.”

 

“Indeed,” Morrigan agreed. “I would not hold them in regard either, but much can be learned from their history and culture.”

 

I nodded around a mouthful of stew, and swallowed. “Elves too. They’ve lost so much of their history, but they were once immortal, and every elf had magic! If that’s true, then there’s no doubt they came before everyone else and likely lived the way they did for a long, _long_ time, but so little is known. That’s…”

 

I looked down at my bowl and took a bite, chewing slowly.

 

“There are no words for the horror of what has been done to the elves.” Morrigan completed my thought quietly.

 

“Yeah.” I took another bite and coughed, refilling my bowl. “So, did you have any other questions for me?”

 

“Not at this moment,” Morrigan said, pushing herself upright. “I shall make use of the time I have left and sleep.”

 

I flashed her a thumbs up. “Sounds heavenly. I’ll wake you in a few.”

 

She smiled mildly and walked away, disappearing into her tent.

 

* * *

 

One good thing about pre-dawn watch was being alert when everyone else was waking up. Usually, I was the one stumbling about, going through motions like a zombie.

 

Right now, I was disgustingly perky, making porridge in the freshly cleaned stew pot as loudly as I could. Hell, I was even singing as the others went about with eyes narrowed and glaring between me and the rising sun.

 

Puppy was my comrade, wiggling between hips with good cheer. He eventually plopped at Sten’s feet, rolling over to expose his belly.

 

In practiced movement, Sten paused and leaned over to rub the soft, warm belly exactly three times before he stood and continued on.

 

Puppy barked, bounding in a flash around Sten’s legs in a quick circuit before he made his way back to me.  

 

Leliana sat down at my side and took hold of my hair, freeing it from the leather tie. As she untangled the braid, she picked up the chorus of my song and began singing alongside me, her voice high and sweet.

 

It was clear, between the two of us, who was trained and who wasn’t. It didn’t matter.

 

I left the porridge to cook and sat back, Leliana patiently brushing my hair. My song drifted off into a hum, but she kept on, singing softly over my head. When she came to a stop she chuckled and swiftly finished my braid.

 

“What prompted you to sing, mon amie?” She asked, tucking away her comb.

 

“Ah, um… Just because,” I responded absently as I resumed stirring. “Hungry?”

 

“For bland porridge? You couldn’t keep me away,” she teased, holding out her bowl.

 

I stuck my tongue out at her and filled her bowl, along with everyone who came after her. It wasn’t my fault the porridge was so bland. I would have added cinnamon, honey, slices of fruit, anything to make it better. Unfortunately, hunger was the best seasoning we had.

 

And with three wardens, all young, two new, even bland porridge was polished off in short time.

 

Alistair was on cleaning duty, and the rest of us packed to leave.

 

I shouldered my staff and we organized our bags along Bodahn’s wares in his wagon, as was usual when we traveled with him. Made it easier to fight in case we came along trouble.

 

Bodahn was still somewhat skittish about traveling with us, for all his good cheer, but he knew he was also much safer traveling with us as well. We were a skilled group (except me), and with all the trouble on the roads during a Blight his best chances were with people like us. Notwithstanding our wanted Grey Warden status.

 

I walked near the rear today, mildly coating my hand with ice, then melting it with fire. It was easiest to bring forth those two without overdoing it.

 

“You are at ease with your magic now,” Morrigan commented at my side.

 

My fire billowed briefly, betraying my surprise when my face didn’t. “Well, a bit, yes,” I agreed dodgily. “Only these two, though.” I coated my fingers in frost again and wiggled them stiffly at Morrigan.

 

She smirked in amusement, quirking a brow. “Indeed. I do believe we can move on from the basic primal elements. What more of magic are you aware of?”

 

“Mmm… Practical use? Not much, honestly. I know there’s shapeshifting, hexes, healing, barriers, but I don’t know how to do them any more than I knew how to do the elements. And I’m just guessing, but primal elements… Those seem like instinctive magic. Something you learn or do first before anything else, no matter what your speciality becomes.”

 

Morrigan hummed affirmatively. “Yes. I played with fire long before I became a cat or a raven. The elements are not something that generally requires much thought before use. When I mastered the elements, only then did my mother allow me to study different magics.”

 

“What is different about using other magic? I would assume that with healing, for example, you would need knowledge of the body, the bones and organs and how they work, but how do you bring forward the magic to heal and not to set people on fire? Because it definitely didn’t feel the same when you healed my neck.”

 

“And that’s just it, isn’t it?” Morrigan purred, delighted by my questions. “How do we know we are using what is right for what we want? When you envision your use of the elements, you think of heat or cold, the basic temperatures that anyone has felt through summer or winter, or a rush of anger, or fear, base emotions in all beings.

 

“With healing, it is more complex. Healing is not emotion based, it is based on knitting together the body through use of magical energy. You must know what you are healing, see the skin as it becomes whole. The best healers have the most intimate knowledge of the body,” Morrigan explained. “I was never quite as interested in the human body as I was in animals of the wild, which is why I heal only minor wounds, but can change my form as I please.”

 

“As long as you have the power to. The biggest I’ve seen you become is a huge spider,” I pointed out. That day had been especially frightening, for both me and the bandits.

 

“True, as long as I have power to,” she amended. “I cannot yet become anything larger, but I am also limited based on the animals I can study. To become something other than yourself, you must know that being just as you know who and what you are. I could not force myself to become a horse, because I have only seen few.”

 

Shapeshifting was amazing, honestly. A horse… When I was young, for near six years I rode horses after school because I was a typical little girl enamored with horses and begged my mom for lessons.

 

I had stopped riding in my last year of middle school, exchanging horses for instruments, but I was no less in love with the beautiful animals than when I was small enough my head barely reached their backs.

 

“If I wanted to learn how to shapeshift… How would I start?” I asked, turning my head fully toward Morrigan.

 

Both her brows rose up. “Ambitious, are you? You have a decent grasp of fire and ice, but your storm energy barely yields to you, and earth yet heeds your call.”

 

“Is earth really so important? I’ve never seen you use it,” I complained, pursing my lips. Electricity was a little hard, more unwieldy, and required much more of a build up. Admittedly, it was my favorite, despite the effort.

 

Earth was just… It was dead to me. I could no more move it than it wanted to be moved.

 

She breathed out a chuckle. “I can, but its uses are more practical for defense than they are offense. It is a stubborn element, nonetheless. I am surprised you have not grasped it faster.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“I am only making an observation,” Morrigan said, shrugging nonchalantly.

 

I huffed. “Sure. Anyway, shapeshifting? Teach me?”

 

“I would be willing to do so,” she said, “once you master electricity. Three of the four will be sufficient.”

 

“ _Yes!_ ” I crowed triumphantly, pumping my fist.

 

Theron peered back, pausing his conversation with Alistair. He tilted his head in curiosity, and I waved him off with a grin.

 

Leliana giggled as well, opening her mouth to speak.

 

A young woman came barreling down the hill from a side path, blond hair wild, panting desperately.

 

“Help!” She gasped at us, stopping in front of Bodahn’s wagon. “Please help! B-Bandits, they- Oh, Maker, they came upon us and my parents, they- they-!”

 

The woman hiccuped, small eyes wet. Alistair approached her, speaking in soothing tones.

 

“Please, calm down. What happened?” He asked. Beside him, Theron withdrew his bow, pulling an arrow from the quiver at his back.

 

The woman shook her head vigorously, hair whipping. “I can’t- There’s no time! Please, help me! They attacked us this way!”

 

She fled, racing back the way she came in spite of our shouts.

 

We began to run after her, but I couldn’t help remembering, like flashes of information scrolling through my mind.

 

This was a trap. She was a mage, allied with-

 

A boom shook the ground, an enormous tree falling behind us as we passed into a small ravine. It narrowly missed Sten and Puppy, but we all stumbled.

 

A loud voice, cocky, a grin audible in his tone, drew our attention.

 

“The Grey Wardens die here!”

 

An elf, skin brown and sun kissed, clearly foreign to the pale Fereldeners, withdrew a pair of wicked daggers. Familiar tattooes curled on the left side of his face to his jaw. The woman who lured us smirked as she plucked up a staff, the end glowing ominously in our direction.

 

On either side of the ravine, archers revealed themselves from the the high ground, bows trained on us while several other rogues leapt down on nimble feet.

 

Magic ballooned and burst around us in a swell, coating us in shimmering barriers. Morrigan swirled her staff, hands glowing, teeth bared.

 

Puppy snarled, bristling in front of me.

 

“Puppy, the archers,” I told him, wielding my staff. “Be careful!”

 

The mabari hound took off, just as an arrow came hurtling at me. I screamed, bursting into flames, but it bounced harmlessly off the barrier.

 

Embarrassed, I hissed, still aflame, and swung my staff over my head, slamming it down. Flames licked up in a hot line, in the direction I had hit the ground, racing toward the archer.

 

I could see the whites of his eyes as he realized his error, but the flames got to him before he could escape. The man exploded in the flames, a dying shriek eclipsed by the boom of the fire.

 

My clothes were falling from my body, blackened, and the barrier caught another blow meant for me.

 

I whirled, staff following my turn, and caught an elven woman in the side. She cried out as my magic crackled, electricity bursting from contact. She fell to the ground, struggling to get up, and I brought my staff down once more before she could, this time on her head.

 

She didn’t get up.

 

Blood thundering, I searched for Theron, and found him, the daggers he rarely used in hand as he dueled Zevran. Surrounding Theron were prone bodies, the only ones standing were those still fighting against either Sten or Alistair.

 

I rushed forward with a shout, spying the blade flashing for Zevran’s throat. “Theron, don’t kill him!”

 

Both elves jerked, and I heard Theron’s growl of frustration as he blocked Zevran’s attempt to gut him through his briefly dropped guard.

 

Another flash of movement, and Alistair barreled in from the side, roaring as he bowled Zevran over. Dazed, but still conscious, Zevran reached for his blade, but Theron leapt forward and coldcocked him before he even knew Theron was there.

 

One last archer fell over into the ravine, an arrow in his throat and Puppy barking behind him victoriously.

 

I breathed shakily, knees weak as the adrenaline left me. It was unusual that I would get involved in a fight that closely. Morrigan was a miracle with her barriers, because there was no doubt I would have been dead twice over without her.

 

Someone sighed heavily behind me, and a cloak fell over my shoulders, hands tugging it around my front. Leliana’s red hair, mussed, fell in front of my eyes as she leaned in, pinning the cloak together.

 

“Just for now, mon amie,” she murmured, smoothing my hair before she stepped away.

 

“Sorry,” I muttered, walking forward in singed boots. My pants, at least, seemed to have survived in similar shape as my boots, but my top half of clothing was a loss.

 

Morrigan was going to scold me again. So was Alistair, I could see the look of it in his frown.

 

“Elizabeth,” Theron called, looking up from where he knelt. Zevran, still unconscious, was tied up, arms behind him and feet belted together by the ankles.

 

“Yeah?”

 

He stood, dragging Zevran up to sit him against a small boulder nearby.

 

“You wanted him alive. Why?”

 

I clutched my cloak tighter around me. “This was a trap for us. You heard him, ‘the Grey Wardens die here’,” I explained. “His accent wasn’t Ferelden, he’s not doing this out of some misplaced patriotism.”

 

Theron glanced at the other elf, arms crossed. “He was paid,” he said, following my thoughts.

 

“Exactly. He’s clearly the leader, he’s the one who shouted at us and gave the word to everyone else. He would know who paid for our deaths.”

 

Alistair grimaced nastily. “Loghain, who else?”

 

“It could have been someone else,” I interjected. “Loghain is one enemy, he could have many other nobles beside him, but we’re not around them, so how can we know for sure which noble might have sent him or if Loghain himself did.”

 

“Does it matter? Either way, Loghain is the one responsible!” Alistair growled, fists clenching and unclenching at his side.

 

“For the Landsmeet! We need to know which noble is in Loghain’s pocket or not!”

 

“How do you even know about that?” Alistair demanded, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

 

“I _am_ reading those books I took from Arl Eamon,” I drawled, scowling. “I didn’t take them for shits and giggles.”

 

Alistair deflated mildly. “Oh…”

 

At our feet, a soft groan interrupted us, a heavily accented voice muttering, “Oh… Mi cabeza…”

 

I will admit, I played favorites, just like I know everyone else who played Dragon Age did. We all had our favorite characters, favorite romances. There was that one character we all swooned over.

 

I know that for many it was Alistair. Dorky, blond Alistair, who was way too much guy and brother-like for me to consider. I could see the appeal, he was a sweetheart, loyal to a fault, and physically appealing in that next-door-boy kind of way.

 

That just wasn’t my type, though.

 

I prefered feminine features, a witty tongue and sharp mind. I was too easy to yield to flirting, woefully so, and while my preferences were women, I could be swayed by a pretty man just the same.  

 

Zevran was very, _very_ pretty.

 

There was no mistaking his masculinity, it was in the strength of his jaw and the square of his chin, but his eyes were soft almonds, framed by ashy blond lashes. His lips were sensual, and his nose was long and almost completely straight. If he had broken it before, it had healed exceptionally well.

 

I knelt close, watching as Zevran’s eyes cleared and focused on me, glancing shortly to everyone at my back. He swallowed, words in his mouth, but not yet talking.

  
A slow smile spread over my face. “Hi,” I breathed, “we have some questions for you.”


	20. Chapter 20

“So, I am to be interrogated?” 

 

He was asking, but his tone was resigned. Zevran needed no clarification. I nodded anyway, leaning in. 

 

The captive elf heaved a sigh, rolling his shoulders gingerly. “Well, then let me save you some time. My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends,” he spoke, smiling with weak hope as he forged on. “I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly.” 

 

Giggles snuck out of me, and my cheeks heated giddily. “I’m glad you failed. It would have been a shame if Theron killed you.” 

 

Zevran looked past me, and I followed his gaze over my shoulder. Theron glowered down at us, arms crossed rather unhappily. 

 

“The dour fellow that is glaring at us, that is Theron, yes?” Zevran stage whispered. “Please tell him I, too, am happy he did not kill me.” 

 

I giggled again, then gathered my boldness and winked at Theron. He sharpened his eyes on me, lips thinning. “Who sent you to kill us?” He demanded, uncrossing his arms. One hand landed over the hilt of his sheathed dagger, and Zevran didn’t quite hide the thick swallow of his throat. 

 

“A rather taciturn man at the capital. Loghain, I think his name was,” he answered quickly, his accent thickening. 

 

“Bastard,” Alistair hissed, and Puppy growled empathetically beside him. 

 

I hummed, tilting my head from side to side as I looked Zevran over. “You’re not loyal to him, are you? If it’s just for coin?”

 

“I have no idea what his issues are with you. The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes? Beyond that, no, I’m not loyal to him,” Zevran agreed. “I was contracted to perform a service, which I attempted and failed.” 

 

There, he said just what I needed him to in order to get his foot in the door with the group. I looked over my shoulder again, grinning widely up at Theron. 

 

He was still scowling, the lines of his vallaslin creased by his wrinkled brows. 

 

“Theron…” 

 

“No.” 

 

He knew exactly what I was aiming for. He had seen me do the same for Sten, but this time he wasn’t going to let me have my way. 

 

My smile dropped. “Wha- Why?” 

 

Theron was not playing my game. He leaned over, darting in quick to pull me up by my arm. I flailed, cloak flapping open. Alistair choked and hurriedly covered his eyes as Theron dragged me away. 

 

“Theron! Hey, let me- Ouch, let me go!” I jerked my arm out of his grip, clutching where he had grasped me. 

 

“You can not recruit him.” Theron growled low, “he tried to kill us. Kill  _ you _ . How can you trust that he will not do so when we turn our backs to him?” 

 

“Sten killed a family, and you let me recruit him!” I protested, pulling my cloak back in place. 

 

“That family was not us!” It was the loudest I had heard him raise his voice. I blinked, taken aback. Zevran was… But Zevran wouldn’t. He was to be a friend, maybe even a lover. Theron didn’t know that, though. 

 

“Theron…” 

 

“I don’t want him with us.” 

 

“He’s an assassin. He’s not loyal to Loghain, he tried to kill us for coin. He’s highly skilled. You heard him, he’s an Antivan Crow. If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at Loghain. Zevran was just his tool. He failed his purpose, so he’s no longer a danger to us,” I murmured, stepping closer to him. “Would you be angry at a dagger that stabbed you, or the person wielding it?”

 

Theron was wavering, but only just. We were a small group, any amount of skilled help was a great boon to us. He didn’t know what I did, but he knew that. 

 

“... What is an Antivan Crow?” He finally asked, reaching out to take my hand. 

 

I smiled brightly and squeezed his hand. “A faction of assassins from Antiva. They’re trained from childhood how to kill. They’re a powerful lot, and incredibly good at what they do…” I glanced at Zevran. “Normally.” 

 

Theron nodded, close lipped. With a strained sigh, he released my hand and gestured for me walk first, back within hearing range of Zevran. 

 

“So!” I plopped down before Zevran, crossing my legs. My cloak fluttered, probably exposing me again, but I think Alistair is the only one who cared. “How loyal to the Crows are you?” 

 

Now I was speaking on his tangent. Zevran smiled toothily at me, canines gleaming. “Loyalty is an interesting concept,” he purred. “If you wish, we can discuss it further…?” 

 

I leaned forward, stabilizing my elbow on my knee, chin cradled in my palm. “Continue.” 

 

“Here’s the thing,” Zevran began. “I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will. However, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you instead.” 

 

Perfect. I love it when things go my way. 

 

“What is stopping you from killing us in our sleep?” 

 

I tilted my head with a glare, looking upside-down at Theron. That is not my way, you cranky elf. 

 

Zevran simply shrugged. “To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child,” he explained. “I think I’ve paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can’t touch. Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I’d rather take my chances with you.”

 

The lesser evil, the one he doesn’t know much about, but would clearly trust to let him live more than the organization that had raised him. Even we were threading a thin line, dependent upon Theron’s good will. 

 

“All right,” I said, pulling my head back. “Say we let you sign on with us. What do you want?”

 

“Well… Let’s see,” Zevran mused comically. “Being allowed to live  _ would _ be nice, and make me marginally more useful to you. And somewhere down the line, if you should decide that you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?”

 

Theron was the leader, though I was conducting the interview. In truth, he would be Theron’s. But the way he said that, “I am yours”... I tingled inappropriately. I had to bite it down, ducking my head as I withdrew my rarely used dagger from its sheath. 

 

“It’s fair. Welcome aboard, Zevran.” 

 

I pulled him forward, and the smell of leathers and sweat hit my nose heavily. Under it, uniquely Zevran, was a heady and spicy musk. I quickly sawed his tied hands apart and backed away. 

 

I stood and let him unbuckle his ankles, watching as he stood and rubbed at his slightly raw wrists. He was about my height, maybe a little taller, but certainly not taller than Theron. His hair was pale, but a warm golden fall to brush his shoulders. It was a little mussed at the moment, but I could see it as longer, the length of Theron’s when he had it unbraided, sweeping over his shoulders. His hair was so straight, it would look fluid at that length. Theron’s hair was all waves of thick, auburn glory, no matter how many times he brushed through his mane. 

 

I was such a hopeless fan girl. Comparing the two of them was entirely unfair. I barely noticed Alistair squawking in the background. 

 

“What?! You’re taking the assassin with us now?” He demanded,”in what way does that seem like a good idea?” 

 

“We’re taking him because I say so. End of story,” I said flippantly. “I already talked to Theron about it.” 

 

Alistair scoffed in disbelief. “Right! Don’t mind me, just a peon in your command structure here, wallowing in my insignificance.” 

 

I turned, my lips drawn in an exaggerated pout, brows furrowed pitifully. 

 

The big whiner softened and rolled his eyes. “Oh, fine. You know best, I suppose.” 

 

Morrigan spoke up at last, eyeing Zevran coolly. “I would examine your food and drink far more closely from now on, were I you,” she advised. “If you wish, I know of a spell that detects poisons.” 

 

“That’s excellent advice for anyone,” Zevran chimed as he plucked his blades up from the battlefield. 

 

Morrigan sneered at him, pointedly turning away. 

 

Leliana, ever the peacekeeper, approached the assassin with an open smile. “Welcome, Zevran. Having an Antivan Crow join us sounds like a fine plan. Someone of your skills will aid us greatly.”

 

She had been hanging back, either out of indifference or to assure our safety from any would-be fellow assassins playing dead. Until now, Zevran hadn’t gotten a good look at her. Now, full frontal and greeted with that sweet smile, she had his attention. 

 

Shamelessly, Zevran looked her up and down. Her smile was fading by the seconds when he opened his mouth. “Oh? You are another companion-to-be, then? I wasn’t aware of such loveliness existed amongst adventurers, surely.” 

 

Her mouth was entirely flat now, instantly uncharmed. “Or not,” she muttered, and followed Morrigan’s example. 

 

I fairly cackled at their reactions, and my laughter drew Zevran’s attention back to me. He cleared his throat and bowed formally. 

 

“I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such time as you chose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation…” Though he had been playing moments before, his mood had swiftly flipped. He lifted his head, every bit of him solemn as he finished his vow. “This I swear.” 

 

Oh, those tingles again. My mouth was so dry. 

 

“I-I’m not the leader…” I weakly told him. 

 

Zevran arched his brow, eyes wandering between me and Theron. Who, stubbornly, was still frowning at Zevran. 

 

“Ah, so I see that your beloved is the one to be deferred to,” he noted, raising his chin. “But can you truly say he is who leads when he defers to you?” 

 

I hiccuped in surprise. “I’m sorry, what?” 

 

“Beloved…?” Theron mumbled, leaning away as he eyed me. 

 

I leaned back as well, looking away as Zevran’s brows rose, lips curling flirtatiously. “Oh ho? Not beloveds after all? I apologize for the misunderstanding.” He chuckled, not at all sorry. He winked  lasciviously at us both, roving gaze appreciative. 

 

I needed to get a shirt on. 

 

… Our packs were back with Bodahn. Shit. 

 

“Fuck,” I grumbled, tugging my cloak tight petulantly. 

 

“Well, the current situation is not exactly opportune for such activities, but if you are still interested later, I would be willing,” Zevran purred, quirking his smile at me. “It is certainly not the worst way to get to know a new companion.”

 

My face bloomed hotly. “N-No, I mean, my shirt is- that is, I need a shirt and our packs are back that way-” I pointed past the fallen tree “- so I don’t have a shirt to change into.” 

 

Zevran hummed, cocking his head. “Though I am loathe to help cover such lovely breasts… I can show you a way about to return to your previous path.” 

 

Alistair snorted and began climbing up the sides of the ravine, Sten following suit. Puppy clambered after them, woofing. 

 

“... Or you can climb, the choice is yours,” Zevran said, exasperated. 

 

Oh, fuck it. Everyone had seen my breasts by now. I could really care less. 

 

“Climbing is faster,” I decided. “Bodahn is probably worried.” 

 

I walked forward, scaling up the ravine unsteadily. My staff knocked me in the back of the head, and my cloak tried to trip me once, but I managed. 

 

For the sake of the innocent, once I straightened up I fixed my cloak, clasping it shut with one hand. 

 

Theron was snapping at a unrepentant Zevran as they climbed up after us. 

 

“Leave her alone, she is not your toy to play with,” the Dalish elf growled. 

 

“Oh, I do not think of her as a mere toy, Grey Warden, nor do I think you are her keeper to warn me away so,” Zevran bandied back. Now that he was free and relatively safe from death, he had no qualms about sassing Theron. 

 

“Theron…” 

 

He climbed up beside me, standing close enough to invade my personal space, pointedly scowling at Zevran as he followed. As Zevran steadied himself, Theron smoothly stepped between us, near blocking my view of the assassin. 

 

Zevran huffed, hands on his hips as he stared back without flinching. 

 

Was this male posturing? Was Theron being territorial or…? No, I didn’t want to know, or even think on it further. Either way, Theron was my friend, not my damn guardian. I don’t know how old he thinks I am, but I’m too old to be protected from flirty or sexual advances. 

 

I hip checked him, forcing him to stumble forward nearly into Zevran. He caught himself and swiveled back, bewildered. Impassively, I watched him a moment, before turning away, walking back where I knew Bodahn was waiting. 

 

“Elizabeth?” 

 

I ignored him and pressed myself between Leliana and Morrigan. He didn’t call for me again. 

 

We trudged down the incline, circling around the fallen tree, and found Bodahn fretting at the base of the path. He caught sight of us, and the kindly dwarf exclaimed as he rushed forward to welcome us back. 

 

“Goodness me! I heard such a loud noise and some fighting. I was quite worried, I’ll have you know,” he told us, breathing in relief. “And who’s this? A new traveler to join us?” 

 

Zevran swept into a casual bow to the dwarf. “It is so, good man. I am Zevran, most recently of Antiva,” the assassin introduced himself smoothly. 

 

“He tried to kill us,” Alistair added, off-hand. 

 

“Oh my,” Bodahn murmured, peering up at the Antivan. “Well, you’ll not be doing that again, I assume.” 

 

Zevran laughed lightly, “no, fear not. I have learned the errors of my ways. At least, in trying to assassinate Grey Wardens. Not to be trifled with, them.” He looked back at Theron, a smirk quirking his lips. The other elf ignored him, and walked to the back of the wagon. 

 

Theron riffled through the packs until he pulled out a shirt, which he promptly handed off to me. 

 

“Hey, wait-” 

 

“Wear it,” Theron demanded tightly. I bristled, incensed by this ridiculous new attitude of his. This shirt was definitely not one of mine.  

 

“Fuckin’- You know what, I’m a grown woman, so stop this stupid-” 

 

I started a tirade, and Theron held up a hand, brows drawn. “Do you want to start this here?” He asked lowly. 

 

I paused, chewing my lower lip. “... Fuck you. We’ll talk tonight,” I decided, growling. 

 

I threw off the cloak, balling it and tossing it in Theron’s face. I ignored both the mild whistle and Theron’s hiss as I struggled with the shirt he had given me. 

 

Thankfully, the shoulders were broad enough to fit, but my chest was definitely straining in the front. I left the top untied for some give, allowing a generous view of the goods inside. I knew exactly what I was doing when I crossed my arms underneath, glaring at him to make my point. 

 

Whatever he thought he had been trying to do by switching out one of my shirts backfired on him spectacularly. 

 

He prowled off to the front and snapped for us to get moving. 

 

Leliana strayed to my side. “Mon amie, be careful,” she murmured. 

 

“I know how to take care of myself,” I grumbled back, brows set deeply. My anger was simmering at this point, waiting for a chance to boil up. If Leliana took Theron’s side, she was going to end up taking the brunt of my ire. 

 

“You can, but will you cost yourself a friend in doing so?” She questioned. “He cares for you. Be gentle, and be wary of the assassin. I understand his skills are a valuable asset to us, but he remains what he is, regardless of his vow.” 

 

“We’re all dangerous people, he just happens to be dangerous for the most honest reason.” 

 

“Coin?” 

 

I nodded. “And his life. Right now, we’re the highest bidders. Unless he finds better, we can trust in that.” 


	21. Chapter 21

It was luck that we happened upon bandits, a larger group that normal, in the middle of fighting through a caravan. The merchants were far from rolling over, and their hired help was certainly earning their coin today. 

 

It was the perfect chance to blow off some anger. 

 

Theron barely had to say a word, and I was in it, hands curled in aggression, teeth bared. 

 

I didn’t think of how I looked, an untethered mage lunging into action with her hands aflame. I didn’t bother with my staff, I didn’t hang back, and, for once, I reveled in the violence of the battle. 

 

The first unfriendly face that snarled at me was met with a ball of fire. My vision narrowed solely on my opponents. I went from one face to the next, and my flames started to crackle, the hum of electricity tingling in my palms. 

 

A sharp pain flared in my shoulder, an arrow, narrowly missed. I turned and circled to the origin, but Puppy was already on it, pouncing from behind, his teeth in the bandit’s throat. 

 

My diverted attention almost earned me a sword in the gut, if Zevran had not shoved me aside, his dagger slamming up to the hilt in the gap between the other man’s armor. His opposite dagger was a swift slice through the man’s vulnerable throat, and blood sprayed from the severed artery. 

 

The elf grinned at me widely, red speckled across his cheek, and I grinned back, wild.

 

Zevran remained at my side for the duration of the battle, picking off those who came in close. I returned the favor, lightning sparking from my fingers to anyone who dared look in our direction. 

 

My anger slipped away into the blood on the ground, excitement surging through my body. When I searched for more opponents, there were none and I… I was  _ disappointed _ . 

 

That there were no more enemies genuinely saddened me. Sadness quickly became disgust.

 

I felt sick. Bodies burned from my ministrations, blackened by fire and lightning. I had killed people in a gruesome and painful fashion. None had died quickly or easily if it had been by my hand. 

 

I had enjoyed every last one. 

 

My gorge rose, and my knees were on the ground before I realized I had moved. The smell of burned flesh thickened in the air. I vomited, body shaking with effort, and I could see my hands clutching the dirt, but I couldn’t feel them. 

 

A warm hand pressed against my back, and I centered myself with that touch, ignoring the ache of my muscles and burn in my throat. 

 

“Elizabeth…” The voice that murmured through my wretched coughing was soft and feminine. Leliana. 

 

I jerkily wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, grimacing as I felt the slime of saliva and stomach acid. I sucked in, then spat out what I could of the remaining vomit. 

 

“S-Sorry,” I stammered, pushing myself up. Leliana caught my arm in her hand, steadying me. 

 

“Are you all right?” She asked, soft. Slowly, I shook my head. 

 

“No, but… Not right now. Okay?” 

 

Leliana thinned her lips, biting at one corner, but she nodded and let me go. Theron, thankfully, was speaking with the merchants, but his gaze lighted on me as he conversed. I was not forgotten. 

 

Alistair passed over canteen of water, and a took a light swig, gargling before I spat. The next sip was long and cooling, and I drank it down to wash away the acrid taste of bile. 

 

I tried to pass it back, but he shook his head. “Keep it,” he told me. “Drink it all, or you’ll have a headache later.” 

 

Right, dehydration. 

 

“Thanks,” I murmured, warily watching Theron approach us. 

 

“These bandits are part of a larger group based in the area. Caravans and refugees have been harassed by them for the past month. They offered to pay for us to join them, for however long we intend to follow this route,” he informed us. 

 

“So, until the Circle?” Alistair questioned. 

 

“Or earlier, if our paths divide sooner,” Leliana added. 

 

Morrigan hummed, “... It would be to our benefit, for extra coin. We are traveling the same way for a time, regardless, but it could be troublesome…” 

 

I peered over Theron’s shoulder, eyeing the merchants as they talked among each other. A few eyed us back, quickly looking away when they realized I was watching them. 

 

“Why do they want us?” I asked slowly. 

 

“They… Have use for apostates on dangerous roads,” Theron answered, as I thought he might. 

 

I bit my lip. “As deterrents. If the bandits come looking for this group, they’ll know a mage killed some of their people. Unless they have the guts or a mage of their own, it’s unlikely they’ll come after this caravan. But...”

 

“It’s possible they will,” Theron completed, thumbing his chin as he thought. 

 

“And in greater force, if they do,” I said. “Even if the bandits don’t come for revenge, we’ll have to travel at the speed of the caravan, and there’s the risk they might find out we’re Grey Wardens. I don’t trust that, with so many people, if it came to light not one of them would tell.” 

 

Theron shook his head. “You’re correct. We do not need the coin they offer, and will be safer and faster on our own,” he agreed. “I will give our regrets.” 

 

He left with a lingering look to me. We would be talking, whether I wanted to or not. 

 

I took a quick sip of water, then another before tucking the canteen away.

 

Theron found me, leaning on the other side of Bodahn’s wagon, back to the gore of the battle. The caravan was moving on, but we remained, digging through what remained on the bodies of the bandits. 

 

Grey Wardens supposedly rode griffins into battle, long ago. It was depicted on the standard armor and shields. 

 

I felt like we were little more than vultures now, scavenging to stay alive. 

 

“That was… Beyond foolish,” Theron spoke at last. He stood before me, unyielding, grey eyes like stone. 

 

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I just- I was angry. I didn’t think.” 

 

He shuffled forward, his hand reaching. His thumb swiped at the drying blood of the slice in my arm. I winced and batted him away. 

 

“An arrow,” I explained. “Puppy took him out.” 

 

Theron’s face hardened. “That arrow could have gone through you,” he disapproved. 

 

“Arrows could go through you all the time!” I shouted, pushing myself from the wagon. The anger that had waned returned in an explosion, the force of it heating my face. “You go into the thick of battle all the time, with a bow and a dagger, and you come back with your own cuts and bruises. Why can’t I do the same?” 

 

“You don’t fight!” Theron roared back. “When you toss your bolts of magic and swing your staff about, that is not fighting! What you did- What you have done today, that is not who you are.” 

 

I snarled, close enough that I saw spit fly from my mouth to his face. “ _You know_ **_nothing_** _about me!_ Don’t you dare think that you know me! You want to know what I felt today, when I fought the assassins Zevran brought with him, the bandits there?” I demanded, shoving him until he stumbled. “I _enjoyed_ it. I was _thrilled_.”

 

I laughed, shrill and unhinged. “It was such a  _ rush _ !” My laughter petered into bubbles of giggles, my hands shaking as I ran them through my hair. “I wanted more, and then-then…” I felt sick all over again, quieting as I stared at the ground. I whispered the end of my thought, because he needed to know. He had to know I wasn’t this nice, strong person, that I wasn’t who he thought I was. My voice was tiny, no more than a thimble of noise. “Then there wasn’t more, and I couldn’t believe that I had found it so fun to burn people.” 

 

I couldn’t bear to see Theron’s expression, to watch the revulsion twist him as he realized how disgusting I was.

 

My face crumpled, and a sob ripped from my chest. I pressed my hands to my face, hard enough to hurt, suffocating behind my palms. 

 

Strong hands roughly pulled my hands away, and I screamed savagely as Theron pulled me against him. I clawed at his sides, trying to get away, and found a gap in his armor. I pinched him sharp and hard, and he grunted, grip loosening. I slipped under his arms and darted away. 

 

“Elizabeth!” 

 

Calls of my name, echoed from several people, chased after me. I was deaf to them, tears drenching my cheeks and blurring my vision. There was barking at my heels, following me close enough that I could feel the hot panting on my legs. 

 

Then the world tilted, and my breath was gone, as if my lungs had been compressed. My feet left the ground, and my back collided with it. I gasped, choking for air, too distracted to fight when a pair of hands grabbed my wrists and pressed them into the dirt about my head. 

 

“Well then,” a thickly accented voice murmured. “That was sufficiently dramatic.” 

 

I stared up at Zevran, my vision a watery haze. 

 

“... Get off.” It was a demand, but, said as I had, it might as well have come from a wheezy kitten. 

 

Zevran laughed and squeezed my wrists tighter. “I think not, my lady. You would dash off again, all alone, and leave behind your pretty warden to pine for you.” 

 

A blade slipped against Zevran’s throat, and the assassin stilled as Theron covered his back, hand tight around his upper arm. 

 

“Perhaps you will listen when _I_ tell you to get off her,” he murmured against Zevran’s ear, teeth glinting sharply. His canines were much more prominent than I had ever seen on a human. 

 

Zevran laughed, a touch high, but lifted his hands from my wrists. “When you put it like that, how can I resist, dear warden?” 

 

His weight lifted, and Theron took my hands, gently helping me sit up. His eyes narrowed piercingly at Zevran until the assassin slunk back, hands up, and left the vicinity. 

 

“Elizabeth…” Theron murmured. I tried to pull my hands away, but his grasp tightened. I tugged again, met the same resistance, and gave up. 

 

“Elizabeth,” he repeated. “You haven’t lost your memory at all, have you?” He knelt close, his eyes trying to catch mine. 

 

I shook my head. 

 

“Will you tell me?” He spoke tentatively, calming the spooked animal I had become. I swallowed hard. 

 

“... I was an artist and a writer by hobby,” I began. “I wasn’t rich or well known, but I was comfortable. I worked as an assistant, shuffling papers around, keeping everything in order.” I stumbled, grief swamping my throat, thickening my voice. “I had a mother; her hair was like Leliana’s, but lighter. Alistair reminds me of my brother, and we hated each other, but we were siblings, so we loved each other too. My mother married a man after my father, and he was so brilliant, I could talk to him about anything, and he would have an answer.” 

 

I huffed breathlessly, a poor imitation of a laugh. Theron was carefully stoic, but he moved from his knees to his rear, hands tender as they held mine. 

 

“They had a child, my half-sister. She was little, but so, so smart, just like my second father.” I trembled, my fingers heavy and tight as I curled them into fists. Theron’s hands were caught, but he did not withdraw. 

 

“I had friends that I loved. My life wasn’t fulfilling, but it was mine. I never hurt anyone with more than words until I came here. I’m not…” 

 

I bit my lip, tasted blood, but the pain was belated and dull. 

 

“I’m never going to see them again,” I whispered. I had become a Grey Warden. What would happen when the Blight took me in thirty years, if I somehow found a way back and returned? “I never wanted magic, or adventure, or- or killing.” I breathed in, quick and shuddering. “Duncan should have killed me. Flemeth should have let me die. I’m not-” 

 

“No.” 

 

His word was biting, and his nails dug sharp into my flesh. I felt the stark contrast of his hard earned calluses and the ones still building on my vulnerable hands, unhardened from a relatively easy life. 

 

“People are not made of stone,” he told me. “You are right. I did not know a thing about you. I knew nothing of where you came from, but I have not told you of who I am- was- either. We have traveled together for two months, and shared little more than a goal and a bed. I do not know your history, the person that you were, and you do not know the same of me.”

 

He had never talked at length, not like this, in one moment.

 

“Should I tell you the first time I killed a human I was sixteen? He intended to spy on my clan, seeking how many we were. He was a slaver.” Theron remained unaffected as he told his memory. “I shot him through his neck, and when that wasn’t enough, I stabbed his heart. I was proud. I did not vomit, I did not feel guilt. We left the next day, far into Ferelden, and the Brecilian Forest became our roaming territory. I’ve killed many humans since.”

 

He withdrew a hand, setting it against my drained cheek. “I killed Connor, the poor, doomed Arl’s boy. I took my dagger, and I slit his throat. Only Sten, Alistair, and Morrigan know that he was not possessed when I did this. It was the first time I felt guilt when I killed a human.” 

 

I sniffed, wiping my eyes. 

 

“You are not alone,” he murmured. “I will never see my clan again. I will never see my family, my friend. I am not that person anymore. You are no longer who you were either.” 

 

“I’m sorry…” I hiccuped. “I don’t want to be the person I am now.” 

 

“Yet you are strong enough to be this person despite that,” Theron said, wiping away late coming tears. “You have learned magic at a rate that frustrates and pleases Morrigan in equal measure. I heard you ask to be taught how to change your form, that she would teach you. If…” He paused, deliberating. “If you are to become a fighter, I would have you learn that as quickly as she can teach. I will guide you in use of your fists and daggers, but it would be wise to concentrate on what you are best in.” 

 

I sniffed heavily, drying my tears. “You were against it earlier…” 

 

“I was. I am,” Theron agreed. “But it is not a kind world, you are a Grey Warden, and denying you the means to protect yourself would be cruel. I will not always be there, and you are... “ His lips twisted in a rueful smile. “Stubborn.”  

 

I pushed his arm weakly, my own smile rising tremulously. “Morrigan thinks so too.” 

 

“She is right.” 


	22. Chapter 22

No one looked at me the same. Of course they didn’t.

 

When we stopped to set camp, I sat away from the others, uninterested in food even as my stomach growled for it. Puppy pressed against me, whining quietly.

 

“Hush or go away,” I told him, and he whined again, soft, before settling with his great head over my knee.

 

A bowl appeared in front of me, and I jerked back as Leliana sat down, forcing the bowl in my hands.

 

“I told you to be careful,” she admonished, her tone quiet, but punishing. It was near the coldest I had ever heard her. Displeased was probably mild for her mood.

 

“I’m sorry,” I offered, but I could say no more. There were no excuses I could give. I didn’t raise my head and stirred the hot stew listlessly.

 

Leliana blew out a sigh, audibly frustrated. “You frightened us,” she murmured, “frightened me. It was…” I saw her head shake from the corner of my vision, hair swaying. “You hold too much in. You hurt yourself. You hurt Theron.”

 

I stirred, silent.

 

Her words sharpened. “Eat, Elizabeth.”

 

I obeyed without meaning to and spooned food to my mouth. The single spoonful turned my hunger into a monster, and I took another bite without prompt. Desire to eat or not, my appetite waited for no one.

 

When my bowl was half empty, Leliana spoke again. “Why do you feel sorry for killing those men?”

 

Ah.

 

“I… I don’t. I don’t feel sorry for killing anyone. I-I mean, I’ve killed before, right? Darkspawn and other bandits that have attacked us and all, it’s just…”

 

“Never like that, no?”

 

I nodded, gnawing absently on the spoon before I took another bite. “I’m just scared, I guess. I’ve never had to kill before. It’s so… Easy. And burning those men was easy, and the act of it was exhilarating, and-!” I stopped myself as I felt the excitement of the memory creep on me. Before my stomach could riot, I lifted my bowl and shoveled the remains of my meal into my mouth. It kept me silent as I chewed through the potatoes and roots. Leliana said nothing as she watched and waited for me to continue.

 

I swallowed down my large mouthful several times, ignoring the thickness of it in my throat. “I’m scared because I liked it.” I was quiet, and more vulnerable than I wanted to feel. “I don’t want to like killing, and I don’t want to get used to fighting.” I drew in a deep breath, sitting straight as it expanded my lungs, then breathed out and deflated.

 

“But I am not that person who doesn’t kill and fight anymore. Maybe it’s better that I do like it,” I mused, carefully pushing away the crawling fear. I took in another cleansing breath. Take in the new, push out the old. Forget, forget, forget. It would hurt less if I did.

 

“No,” Leliana protested, “you do not have to like it.”  

 

I looked at her, finally, and smiled wanly at her frown. “If I need to be good at something, it’s best I like then, isn’t it?” I huffed, not quite laughing. “Funny coincidence, I do! I’ll just… Get used to it. My feelings aren’t important.”

 

“They _are_. Elizabeth-”

 

“No, they aren’t,” I interrupted harshly. Puppy whined, and I relaxed the fist I had squeezed around his ruff. “I am one person. I never meant to be here, but I am, and I’m one of three people in Ferelden who are absolutely necessary to stopping this Blight before it can really start. One life for thousands. So, no, I don’t matter that much. I’m a half-bit mage who regularly sets herself on fire because she can’t help it. You’re not a Grey Warden, but no one can deny that even as a Grey Warden, I have less value than you. So, please, don’t.”

 

Leliana was quiet, face washed of color, but eyes burning. “You’re wrong,” she told me with solemn conviction.

 

I turned away. She was welcome to believe what she wanted, but the truth of the matter wouldn’t change. I heard her shift, dirt crunching as she stood and walked away.

 

Drained, I hunched further in on myself as exhaustion swept through me. Sleep. Sleep and time would make it better, but I wasn’t about to go to sleep covered in grime and blood.

 

I stood and scrounged a rag from my pack. I wouldn’t dunk myself in water, but I could at least take a poor man’s bath, clean up enough to not feel entirely gritty and gross.

 

Puppy followed me, flush against my hip, as I navigated my way to the nearby stream. The second time I stumbled, I growled and lifted my hand.

 

A mage light, no emotion, just pure magic, right? I breathed and released, slow and careful to keep my feelings from tainting the flow of magic. Small tendrils rose from my palm, swirling into glowing orbs, one for each finger. They wavered with heat, smoke-grey at first, then faded to a neutral white.

 

For my first try, it was going surprisingly well. Relief softened the tension in my shoulders, and I continued, unhampered.

 

Once I reached the stream, I directed the orbs around me, enough to keep my vision unbroken and alert while I rinsed off.

 

Puppy lapped at the water noisily while I undressed. I folded my clothes over a small boulder and hoped the water wasn’t too cold.

 

It was.

 

I hissed and wheezed, but scrubbed myself determinedly with my frigid wet rag. Sweat had dried long ago, just as the sticky blood had, and, even if I couldn’t see the sweat like the blood, I could feel it. What I would give for some proper soap and lotion.

 

“There is a spot on your neck you have overlooked.”

 

I whirled, splashing water that abruptly froze around my feet. Puppy boofed quietly, clearly unconcerned with the intruder.

 

I stood in nothing more than my goose pimpled skin while Zevran smiled on.

 

He was the last person I wanted to see. Not after the shameful display I put on today. In less than five hours after I had successfully recruited him I had brashly thrown myself at bandits, had a public fight with Theron, broken down, cried, screamed, and had to have been tackled by none other than the elf before me to prevent me from running away.

 

If there was any other way I could have embarrassed myself in front of Zevran, I didn’t doubt I would find a way to do it.

 

I could feel the heat of my flush spread down my chest, but my own magic rooted me in ice. Yet another addition to my list of shame. Could I do nothing right?

 

I swallowed dryly, meeting his eyes to the best of my ability. At the very least I could say the one thing on my mind.

 

“You sure you want to stay? After everything today, if I were you I would be rethinking that pledge you made.”

 

I had to know. I needed to see if I had run him off already, denied Theron a chance at love or ruined the chance we had of keeping a skilled individual who could further our survival.

 

Zevran shrugged, crossing his arms as he leaned back against a nearby tree. “I am the one who made the pledge, you are the one who must release me from it. As of yet, you have not done so. Unless you are expecting me to run?”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. I wouldn’t even be offended. What I did today was not really…” I shook my head and reached up to tug my hair from its braid. “It didn’t inspire confidence, for one.”

 

The ice had melted enough that I could pull my feet out and leave. I didn’t.

 

“Hm, I feel I do not have all the facts, which is to be expected when one is still learning about his fellows. But I do know what I can observe, and what I see does not make me want to leave,” Zevran said plainly, his double meaning clear as he looked me up and down.

 

I ignored his innuendo. “Then what have you seen that makes you so sure we won’t get you killed any more than being on your own would keep you alive?”

 

He cocked a brow, smirk dwindling. “So little mood for play. Ah, but I understand. You are new to all this, yes? The fighting, the blood, the killing and dying. You said as much after you emptied your stomach on the ground. You also said you reveled in it, and that is what sickened you most. But you are a mage of some power, with comrades who are no amateurs. A Dalish hunter, a Bard, a Qunari warrior, a Templar trained warden, and another apostate of no little magic.”

 

He strode forward and sidestepped a wavering orb until he was within arm’s reach of me.

 

“I gave my pledge to you, but you are not the only one here, and you are certainly not the one with the most skill. You are merely the one with the most influence. That, my lady, is why I stay.” He cocked his head, peering at me like a predatory bird. “If I pose a question to you, will you answer me as I have answered you?”

 

I nodded slowly, watching his face. His darkened eyes flashed, cat-like, from the mage lights.

 

“Why go out of your way to recruit me once you had your information? The elf you name leader, a Dalish elf, no less, willingly listened to you over his own desire.”

 

“His name is Theron,” I stalled, covering my chest, clenching my hands over opposite arms.

 

“And his name is as handsome as his face, but his name is not the answer I seek, Lady Warden,” Zevran purred, edging a step closer.

 

I stiffened, nails digging at my skin, but refused to back away.

 

“... Your voice. I heard you, your accent,” I said, pulling my thoughts together rapidly. “It was Antivan. No one Antivan comes to Ferelden and decides to kill Grey Wardens just because. You wouldn’t have reason to care. I made sure you weren’t killed so I could ask who paid enough money to get an assassin from Antiva. And if they spent the money to get an assassin out of Antiva, then you had to be a Crow. I figured, a Crow, a person with specialized training in killing people and getting away with it? I would be an idiot not to recruit you.”

 

Zevran _preened_. “My voice? You deduced that from hearing my voice? My lady… I am honored.”

 

He took a long lock of hair, curled with waves from extended time in a braid, between his thumb and curved forefinger and brought it to his lips. He held my gaze as he pressed a kiss to my hair, and heat licked inside me. It was seduction, plain and simple, and it couldn’t possibly be because he found me attractive.

 

“You-” I croaked, then coughed to clear my throat. “You won’t get anything from me just because you flirt.”

 

Zevran laughed mildly. “Flirting, you call it. Well now, I know when I have been caught, but please do not call it ‘flirting’, like a boy visiting upon a girl who catches his eye.”

 

I swallowed, and this time I could not prevent my feet from leading me back, slow enough the water only rippled.

 

“Fine, you were trying to seduce me,” I rambled quickly. “You’ve known me less than a full day and night, and you want in my pants because you think I have the influence to shield you if Theron decides to kick you out after all. Am I wrong?”

 

The assassin hummed, smug and not at all put out. “I will not deny what you believe you have the right of. Though… You would be wrong to say you are wearing pants.” His voice dropped into a lascivious purr. “My lady, might I say, you look positively chilled. May I tempt you out of the cold?” He offered a hand, bowing over it low enough to appear servile, but not enough that I was out of his sight.

 

I swallowed again, and dug my nails into my skin. If the pain didn’t sharpen my wits, it could at least shock me from my lust.

 

A flap of feathers became a burst of smoke, and Morrigan lighted on the ground between us. Zevran reeled back in a controlled, fluid motion, withdrawing to a safer distance.

 

“A chaperone?” He inquired, and Morrigan sneered.

 

“Unnecessary, just as you are, elf. Leave and do not return,” she commanded in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

 

Zevran bobbed in a quick bow, teasing and insincere. “As the lady wishes,” he murmured, turning away. He caught my eye and dropped a wink. “And if the Lady Warden wishes, my tent is open to her attentions.”

 

He disappeared into the shadows of the trees and was out of sight before Morrigan turned fully to me.

 

Silent, she offered her hand. I took it readily, stepping carefully to avoid slipping on rocks. I released her hand once I was on the bank, and started putting my clothes back on. I would change to something cleaner once I got to my tent.

 

Morrigan broke the silence as I tugged on my shirt, fluffing my hair out from under it.

 

“You do not intend to join him, do you? It would not be wise.”

 

I scoffed, “no, I woul-” I paused and glanced at her. “... How long were you watching?”

 

Her gaze was steady as she answered me. “I would not leave an assassin alone to wander after you with only that mutt for safety.”

 

Puppy harrumphed in offense and sat on my feet.

 

“So, everything. You saw everything.”

 

“Does it matter what I did or did not see?” She questioned, tilting her head.

 

I shrugged, tying my trousers up. “I guess not. While you’re here…” How was I going to put this? Give me your knowledge? Teach me your ways?

 

“Yes?” Morrigan interjected, drumming her fingers over her crossed arms.

 

Oh, just get it over with. “If I’m going to be fighting more like… Like I did today, I need to know more. I can’t play around with my magic anymore. I know you wanted to wait, but-”

 

“But you are inexperienced and lack control,” Morrigan stated plainly. “You asked earlier and I gave you my answer. It remains the same. However… You would do well to learn how to properly use your staff, aside from copying my motions. That I will teach you.”

 

Okay, good, but not enough. I gritted my teeth. “Thanks, but I can’t just- I need more. I’m physically weak, and I don’t have years to build my strength. I’m not saying I need to, I don’t know, learn how to be a bear or whatever tonight, but there must be something I can start with!”

 

Morrigan narrowed her eyes on me, brows twitching. “... I concede your point, though inelegantly put. It does not change your inexperience, but that is not something changed so quickly.” She hummed, crossing her arms. “A week, then. I will teach you how you use your staff, and you will continue your practice for a week.”

 

“And then?”

 

“We shall see, won’t we?” She replied loftily, and turned away.

 

It would depend on me, then. Whether or not I was mastering what she wanted from me. Neither Theron nor I would move her if she didn’t want to be moved. I was already learning at an accelerated rate, I just… I wanted more. I wanted all the knowledge that she could give me. I wanted the books of magic hoarded in the Circles and the books carefully hidden from the Templars.

 

Knowledge was power, and I was, unfortunately, lacking.

 

I loathed that we were going to the mage’s tower, the Circle where they were imprisoned by virtue of their birth, but I was going to take every advantage. Any books that could be saved would be mine.

 

I returned to camp and silently pitched my tent. I had no watch hours tonight, but I slept fitfully in spite of my exhaustion.

 

By morning, I was nearly as tired as when I went to sleep. Bleary, I watched as Theron set up the fire again, preparing breakfast, and I realized the only warm body that had kept me company last night was Puppy.

 

After several consecutive nights of sleeping together, Theron had let me be.

 

My chest twisted. It had been on and off since Redcliffe, but he had come to me often enough that I had become used to expecting another body beside me, curled on my chest, or nested under his chin.

 

Maybe he had finally overcome what happened there. After yesterday, though… He needed someone strong to keep him when he was weak. I had done just about everything I could yesterday to prove my weakness.

 

He wasn’t coming back.

 

Puppy pawed my leg, and I turned toward him, fingers rubbing at his soft ears. “Let’s go get you some food. You like fish?”

 

The mabari perked and whuffed loudly before he tore off toward the stream. With luck, there would be enough decent sized fish to keep him fed.

 

I followed him and tried to recall what Morrigan had said about shapeshifting. Study animals. What animals did I already know well enough to try?

 

My family had owned cats all my life, it might be easiest to start there, but a house cat was hardly fighting material.

 

A lion or tiger, though… Were there even such animals here? I growled under my breath and Puppy peered back at me, distracted from his fishing.

 

“Nothing, go on,” I dismissed. “Be quick, we have to leave soon.” Puppy huffed and returned his attention to the water.

 

A dog was not a pet I had ever owned before now, and it wasn’t even proper to say I “owned” Puppy. But a mabari hound was a large and intimidating animal.

 

My nose wrinkled in distaste. I had limited options, but my vanity wanted to dismiss the idea of dogs right away. I didn’t dislike dogs, that wasn’t the question, but mabaris were… Very practical, in looks as well as function. Thick bodied, back to my waist, head to my chest, short furred and densely muscled. A mabari was the only example of a dog I had on hand.

 

I couldn’t afford vanity, though. In time, I could expand the amount of animals I could become, leave behind the guise of a hound for something more suitable to my aesthetics. Right now, I didn’t need to be pretty and deadly. I just needed to be deadly.

 

Puppy stood stock still in the water, and I could see a flash of silvery scales. I studied the way Puppy’s muscles tensed, the bunch of his fur as he lunged, teeth snapping, and emerged with a heartily flopping fish in his mouth.

 

He bounced from the water and shook himself, head wagging from the force of the fish’s struggles. I watched the lines of his neck as his tendons defined themselves the instant Puppy bit down harder, delicate bones crunching audibly.

 

The fish stopped moving.

 

Puppy wasn’t a handsome dog, but he didn’t need to be. I wouldn’t need to be either. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, anyway.

 

I smiled and scritched Puppy’s wet head. “Come on. Be careful with the bones when you eat that.” 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so subtly sneaking in Morrigan/Elizabeth ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I tossed fire from hand to hand, slow and lazy, and watched Theron’s back. 

 

He had yet to come to my tent since my… Incident. Forgivable; I wasn’t in the best state to be welcoming, and, honestly, I didn’t want him next to me while I sorted myself out. 

 

But he had yet to even talk to me, and it had been days, near a week, since the incident. He talked around me, he talked at me, but he didn’t talk  _ to _ me. He gave me no chance to engage and had gone from subtle avoidance to outright walking away. 

 

Maybe Leliana was right. I had purchased my independence with Theron’s friendship. 

 

I strained against wishing to let him coddle me again and knowing I would hate it if he did. Why did he want my company when I was unable to fight? Or was it that he only wanted my company when he thought I had the mental strength to support him? 

 

My fire flickered and pulsed unsteadily, the flames licking my palms as if to stick to my hands instead of passing between them. I grimaced and clenched my fists, dousing the flames inside them. 

 

Ice, then. As my hand slowly frosted, the surrounding air fogged. I focused crystals at the tips of my fingers, building them into points as they bloomed under my guidance. 

 

“Are you from the Circle?” 

 

I hadn’t noticed Zevran slip beside me, curiously eyeing my hands. 

 

“Ah, no. Haven’t been.” 

 

“No? Shame,” Zevran sighed. “I have heard tales of what they do at Circles in Antiva. Making love under the light of the full moon…” He shook his head mournfully. “Alas, I discovered it was not so, but surely the rumor started somewhere.”

 

I snorted, and turned back to my fingers, pulling back the crystals to center in my palm. “I wouldn’t know, but I doubt it started here. Maybe Rivain? They have freer practices than any other place. Well, discounting Tevinter.”

 

“Yes, discounting Tevinter,” Zevran agreed, lips quirked. “The templars elsewhere hoard their mages like a jealous spouse. It makes a person’s imagination wander.” 

 

“Well,” I hummed, “it’s probably not so fun as orgies under the moonlight, otherwise the mages outside the Circles wouldn’t be trying so hard to stay out.”

 

“You have a point,” he murmured, tapping his chin. “It must be a dull life, trapped in their stone cages.” 

 

“Makes you wonder, is this worth it?” I pondered, twirling my finger. My ice swirled slowly in the air after the motion, flakes of frost circling until I lowered my finger and the surrounding temperature melted them away. 

 

Zevran’s lips widened in a pointedly salacious manner. “I can think of many uses for such skill that would make it very much ‘worth it’.” 

 

I grinned back sharply, showing teeth. The flash of a soldier’s frozen face, unnamed, passed through my mind. “You might want to find a mage with better control.” 

 

“Oh? So, Morrigan…?” He stage whispered inquiringly. 

 

The witch in question looked over her shoulder at us, eyes narrowed. 

 

I coughed laughter into my palm and shook my head. “Ha! No. Um… No. She’s not…” 

 

“‘She’s not’…?”

 

“Let me put it this way,” I said, clearing my throat. “She regularly turns into a giant spider. I don’t know it you’re aware, but female spiders-” 

 

“Eat their mates, I am aware,” Zevran finished, and returned Morrigan’s glance steadily. 

 

Morrigan’s gaze shifted to me approvingly, and she sniffed as she turned away. “You are not far from the truth,” she told us casually. “But you assume I would let the assassin in my bed  _ before _ I killed him.”

 

“If you did, you would find it worth your time to allow me to convince you to let me live once we parted ways,” Zevran purred, tilting his head enticingly. 

 

His neck was just slightly bared, and his pale, golden hair slid over his tan skin in a manner that drew the eye to the arch of his throat. 

 

Morrigan growled in disgust, and I pulled my eyes away, planting them firmly at Theron’s back once more. 

 

If I didn’t look at him, maybe I would stop imagining that pretty neck bruised in telltale shapes of a mouth. 

 

* * *

 

 

I snarled as I swung my staff, the effort straining at my arms. My shoulders and back prickled hotly and my muscles were tight with complaints. I knew my face was alarmingly red. 

 

Sun kissed skin wandered through my mind, blond locks of hair teasing at defined shoulders. Bruises darkened the surface of the skin in the crook of a throat, and, as my mind’s eyes wandered up the neck to the jaw, skin paled and lips thinned in a rare smile, grey eyes soft.

 

A roaring bolt of fire scorched the earth, and Morrigan promptly doused it. 

 

Panting, I leaned on my staff for support. I had admired the strange blend of metal and wood that my staff had been created from, but I hadn’t realized just how heavy it was until now. The weight of it was usually carried by my back, and I so rarely used it in battle that I hadn’t understood just how cumbersome it was.

 

Still, even flinging its weight around until my body shrieked protests was little distraction from my frustrated mind. 

 

“That will do for tonight,” Morrigan allowed, and I slumped to my knees. 

 

“Thank fuck,” I whispered to the ground. I yearned for a bath, nice and hot, to just soak in. Maybe some private time. 

 

Puppy snuffled in my ear, and I flinched as I swatted him away, quickly standing to get out of his range. He whined, the big baby, and sulked away for better company. 

 

I was not the kind of person who lusted after others. I rarely dated, more often just sated myself with another’s body for the night or by my own means. The one time I had been in a true relationship it had been months before we decided to have sex, and she had been the more sexually driven one. 

 

Now I felt battered by my own lewd thoughts, and the best outlet available was not something I was going to do surrounded by other people within easy hearing distance.

 

Alistair proffered a bowl of dinner silently, and I took it with me to the edge of camp, where I had set my tent. 

 

I watched absently as Puppy circled Theron, who obligingly waggled a stick before tossing it for Puppy to chase. Intelligent as he was, Puppy was still a dog. 

 

It was almost domestic. Near the fire I saw Zevran sassing Leliana, whose face was strained with a put upon smile. Alistair seemed to be trying to scold Zevran, but remained well on the other side of the fire, sword still at his waist. 

 

I watched Morrigan emerge from her own tent and make for them. She sneered at Alistair, and he snarked back at her, reluctantly handing over a bowl. His smile twisted with amusement as Zevran turned his attention on her, and she responded cattily, but retreated. 

 

My bowl was empty in the next few minutes, and Puppy lumbered over, panting as he laid himself at my feet. 

 

“Did you get worn out?” I asked, poking his leg with my foot. 

 

Puppy huffed and laid his head over his paws. 

 

“I thought so. You were bored today.” 

 

I set my bowl aside and lowered myself to the dirt, coaxing Puppy’s head into my lap. He had been more than happy with my new nightly routine of petting and grooming him. It was the perfect chance to observe him closely, feel his coarse fur under my hand and how his muscles worked. He was even perfectly patient when I opened his mouth and examined his teeth through the smell of his doggy breath. 

 

The more I examined him, the greater appreciation I had for his form. Puppy was all purebred mabari warhound. He was trained, in excellent shape, and his thick body was perfect for his purpose. I had seen these teeth make holes in leather, dent armor, and easily rend flesh apart. His paws were large, and it was little wonder how his opponents were stunned when he swiped their heads or knocked them down. 

 

I closed my eyes as I stopped examining him so closely and steadily stroked along his side, feeling the short, dense fur under my fingers. 

 

I could imagine, easily, how I might look as a mabari. The same size as Puppy, docked tail, thick body, but... It didn't feel right. The thought of changing myself, molding my body into a completely different shape that wasn't mine, made a sense of wrongness crawl over my skin. 

 

Should I at least try? Meditate on it? It had been a while since I had bothered to meditate. 

 

I glanced back to where Morrigan had set her tent and saw her absently eating between working with herbs she had gathered as we walked. 

 

What advice would she offer, if I tried to explain myself?

 

I closed my eyes and settled in, slowing my strokes over Puppy’s fur. 

 

I fell into a state of relaxation with greater ease than I expected and felt what I was searching for near instantly. Magic, like an uninterrupted, steady stream, flowed in a parallel of my circulatory system. My constant use had heightened my awareness more than I had realized. 

 

It was amazing. 

 

Experimentally, I nudged at the flow and felt it react indifferently, continuing unhindered. It was like touching my own skin; I could feel my hand upon myself, but it simply continued to be. 

 

I would need to be more active to mold it freely. Fire and ice was admittedly easy magic, because it connected with emotions. Controlling my emotions was something I already knew how to do, and I would consider calling upon those two elements more passive than active at this point. 

 

Changing into an animal didn’t seem something so emotional as it was physical. I would be encouraging my own body to become something entirely different. I had to have incredibly precise knowledge of not just my body, but the body of the animal I wanted to become. That was the easy part. 

 

The hard part was going to be this. Active use of emotionless magic. I could barely call mage lights without them smoking.  

 

Morrigan could change almost instantaneously. I would need to be that good, if I could get over my own trepidation of transforming in the first place. 

 

“Elizabeth.” 

 

I slowly opened one eye and glanced up at Morrigan. “Yes?”

 

“What are you doing?” 

 

Puppy wuffed in my lap and I opened both eyes to look at him. Underneath his head, my body was outlined in a fading blue glow. Well. 

 

I beamed widely up at Morrigan. “Just meditating.” 

 

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Is that so?” She drawled and watched as my glow disappeared.

 

I laughed weakly. If she were a more tactile person, I’m sure her hands would be around my throat. 

 

“I was thinking and meditating. Nothing big.” 

 

“When you meditate you _do not_ _think_. That is the point.” Morrigan sat beside me, regal even in the dirt. “What is it you were thinking of so intently as to glow with it?”

 

“I…” I paused and sighed, rubbing Puppy down absently. “Changing my body. How I’m supposed to do it the way you do. I barely even know the theory of it.” 

 

Morrigan hummed, watching me as I trailed my hands over Puppy’s lax body. “What are your thoughts?”

 

“... Magic is… Active and passive,” I started, stumbling to find the right words to explain myself. “Emotional and emotionless. I’m sure it’s more complicated, but that’s what I know right now. The elements are passive and emotional.” My words and voice gained speed and volume as I spoke. “I can use them, fire and ice, at least, pretty easily now. They’re emotionally driven and I’ve had my whole life to learn to control my emotions. So, controlling them is becoming passive. Soon, I won’t even have to think of it anymore.”

 

Morrigan was quiet, listening as my explanation turned into a ramble. 

 

“But changing my whole body is just - I can’t put emotion into that. It’s not emotionally driven, is it? It’s pure knowledge and active magic. I have to  _ know _ what I’m changing into and how to become myself again after. I have to change my entire body, saturate my very bones with the knowledge of what I’m becoming and use magic to make it happen. My organs won’t be human, my heart, my limbs, my head will all become something else. And if I don’t do it right, I could really mess myself up! I barely know what I’m doing, and now I’m supposed to  _ change my whole body _ into something else!”

 

Puppy whined softly, nosing my fingers. I stroked his soft muzzle and breathed deeply. 

 

“You are scared.” 

 

I glanced at Morrigan, whose face was as impassive as I’d ever seen it. I held her yellow eyes with mine. 

 

“Yeah. I’m scared. It’s an amazing thing you do, but I’m scared that I can’t do it too. And, if it wasn’t so necessary, I don’t know that I would want to do it.”

 

As far as I knew, Morrigan and her mother were the only mages who could change shape. Mage wardens in the game could learn the skill from Morrigan, but, aside from that, I hadn’t seen or heard of any other mages with such a talent. 

 

Unless I was disproven, I thought shapeshifting of something a person needed a talent for to even start learning it. Morrigan had been doing it all her life. I had under a year. 

 

The silence was becoming a yawning tension when Morrigan broke it. 

 

“Then I will not teach it to you.” 

 

I stiffened, mouth open to protest, but… Protest what? That she was withholding exactly what I wanted her to? 

 

It would be hypocritical of me to take back my words in the breath after I said them. 

 

Morrigan sat, as still as I was, and watched me as I closed my mouth. 

 

“... You know other magic,” I ventured slowly, my heart throbbing. What could I do if she said no? She was the only source of education I had for my magic. I couldn’t fling ice and fire around forever. I had to get sophisticated.

 

Morrigan’s yellow eyes flashed, predatory and not quite human. “I do.”

 

I shivered, but was not cold. “Will you teach it to me?”

 

Her lips curled. “Tell me why you do not wish to change your form as I do.” 

 

“And when I do?” 

 

“I will consider what to teach you.”

 

I closed my eyes, drawing in air, and let it go. I tried to let my stress follow it, but the lines of my back were as tight as ever. It was enough. 

 

“I don’t want to change myself any more than I already have.” I flexed my hands over Puppy’s dozing body, looking at them, looking down my arms. I had callouses where I had never had them before. My pale skin was littered with freckles that were only steadily darkening every day I remained outside under the sun. My body had been soft before, but, between becoming and Grey Warden, walking, and fighting, it had rapidly lost every bit of extra fat that wasn’t breast. I knew my hair had grown enough that the dark roots of my natural color showed, clearly enough that it was obvious the pale blond was not my true hair color. Maybe I should just shear it off. 

 

If I looked in a mirror, would I recognize myself? These were only physical changes, what about the mental ones? 

 

What about my newfound affection for battle, the ease with which I lied, my desperate and selfish grappling for survival at the cost of anyone who was not  _ mine _ . And these people around me, they  _ were _ mine, even if they didn’t know it. I would die for them, and I would kill for them. 

 

I had been doing it all along, and I had never questioned myself until now. Was I distraught that I had done it, or was I distraught that I had done it without thinking about it? 

 

I clenched my shaking hands into fists and set them on Puppy’s warm fur. I did not look at Morrigan. 

 

“I do not know who you were before that who you are now is much distanced from her, but I do understand the personal lines that one does not cross within themselves,” Morrigan murmured. 

 

I swallowed through my closed throat. Morrigan leaned in toward me, and the distant fire cast a glow in her eyes. 

 

“You will not change your form, but what else  _ will _ you do?” 

 

Caught in her gaze, I couldn’t help giving her the truth. 

 

“Anything. Everything.” 

 

Her wicked mouth split, her smile more of a show of teeth than an expression. 

 

“Hexes? Necromancy?  _ Spirits? _ ” 

 

Her voice was a throaty purr, her hands curled in the dirt beside my thigh. I could feel her magic, smoothing over me like a silken thing. She was powerful, knowledgeable, and I was at her mercy if I wanted her to share it with me. 

 

I don’t think I minded. 

 

“Yes.”


End file.
